A SECOND CHANCE AT TRUE LOVE

Five years ago, Rick Allyn was publicly humiliated when he had his heart broken on the reality dating show True Love. Convincing him to sign up for another round of punishment isn’t going to be easy. But with the show’s ratings plummeting, producer Elizabeth Maier will have to persuade him to agree…or she’ll be putting in a job application at Rick’s small-town diner.

Elizabeth is confident this season will be different. With his prominent family, boyish charm and good looks, Rick is the complete package. Finding his soul mate shouldn’t be hard. However, as filming continues, she’s beginning to suspect that the perfect woman for Rick is her. That leaves Elizabeth with a tough choice: her job at True Love or a shot at the real thing.

Elizabeth studied the handsome man next to her.

When had she lost her touch? Most men jumped at the chance to have twenty-five beautiful women fawning over them.

“You owe it to America to be on the show.”

“Somehow I think you’re exaggerating.” Rick chuckled.

She was losing him. He wasn’t interested in money, love or fame. What else could he want? She changed gears. “If this is about reliving history, we’ll do a better job this time. You won’t end up humiliated and alone.”

“It must be nice to control the universe.”

She reached over and put a hand on his arm, and tried to ignore the skitter in her stomach when she felt his muscles underneath the denim jacket. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll guarantee it.”

If only she could have what she truly wanted.

Dear Reader,

One of my favorite television shows is The Bachelor, and I love the idea that you can meet the love of your life on a reality show. Of course, the reality is it doesn’t always work out that way, and I wondered what would happen if a bachelor was rejected on live television in front of an audience of millions? How could he come back from that and find a second chance at love? And what if it turned out to be with the wrong woman?

With those questions in mind, I started the story. I named my bachelor after my dad and gave him a lot of my dad’s qualities. I discovered that I wasn’t only writing a romance, but a story that would honor my dad’s memory in a small way.

I hope you enjoy the story as much as I did. And I’d love to hear from you at www.facebook.com/syndipowellauthor.

Syndi Powell

The Reluctant Bachelor

Syndi Powell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SYNDI POWELL

started writing stories when she was young, eager to find out what happened after the happily-ever-after in her favorite books, and has made it a lifelong pursuit. She’s been reading Harlequin romance novels since she was in her teens and is thrilled to join the Harlequin team. She lives near Detroit with her husband, stepson and a cat and dog who believe they run the household. She loves to connect with readers on Twitter, @syndipowell, or on her Facebook author page, www.facebook.com/syndipowellauthor.

Dedicated to my dad, who I hope can read this book from heaven. I love and miss you. And to my mom, who introduced me to reading Harlequin books in the first place and started the love affair. Thank you both for your love and support.

Contents

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

PROLOGUE

RICK ALLYNTUGGEDat the sky-blue tie that had been looped around his neck by one of the production assistants of True Love, a dating reality show. Only moments away from proposing to the one woman he’d never believed he’d find, he should feel anxious, right? The butterflies running bases in his stomach only proved his human nature.

After all, Brandy could say no.

But she wouldn’t. Not to him. At twenty-five, he was the entire package—looks, smarts and, after his agent worked out the details of his contract, a major-league baseball player.

Lizzie Maier walked toward him. Serious, as always. She was wearing a purple power suit; her long brown hair was tied up in some ridiculous style that only emphasized the sharpness of her cheekbones. And the grass-green of her eyes.

He held up his hands in surrender. “What did I do now?”

Lizzie shook her head and reached up to straighten his tie. “She’s almost ready for you.” She didn’t look him in the eyes, but kept her focus on his suit and the fit of it. “Are you sure about this?”

Finally she looked up at him. “Brandy’s an amazing woman. Beautiful. Smart. What man wouldn’t want to be married to her?”

“Right.” Lizzie nodded, then tapped her earpiece and shook her head. “They’re still not ready. Rick, I should tell you—”

“Lizzie, relax.”

“It’s Elizabeth.”

“Not to me.” He winked at her. “I’m going to propose. She’ll say yes. Then you’re going to throw us the biggest, most romantic wedding that has ever aired on television.” Rick rolled his head around his neck to get out the tension. “Now, let’s get this show on the road. The rock in my pocket is weighing me down.”

“What if she doesn’t pick you?”

Rick laughed and shook his head. “She’s going to pick Wade? Give me a break. It’s not like all of us didn’t warn her about him. Brandy’s a smart girl. She knows.”

“Rick—”

“It’s fine. Really, Lizzie.” He straightened his shoulders and touched his tie. “I’m getting the girl. I’m winning her heart. And you can print that in the tabloids.”

Lizzie tapped her earpiece again. “Okay, they’re ready for you.” She studied him, then sighed. “You’ve been a good friend to me during this show. Thanks.”

He winked. “Let’s go propose on live television.”

CHAPTER ONE

FIVEYEARSSHOULDbe enough time for people to forget. In a world of thirty-second sound bites and high-speed internet, one person’s fifteen minutes of fame should be a distant memory in a few months at most.

But Rick didn’t live in a world of shoulds. If he did, he’d be happily married to Brandy. And Lizzie wouldn’t be sitting in the stands at the annual Pickle Play-Off game.

Get your head in the game, Allyn. This is for the championship.

He clapped his hands and crouched into a running stance at second base. His line drive had been good enough to get him there, but he needed one more solid hit to get him and the guy on third home to win the game. The young man with Down syndrome up to bat might dampen anyone else’s enthusiasm. But not Rick’s. Because tonight was his night. He could feel it down to his cleats.

Rick cupped his hands around his mouth. “C’mon, Jeffy. Hit me in, buddy.”

Jeffy looked up at him and nodded. He bit his tongue as he got into position in front of the catcher.

The first pitch. “Ball.”

Rick stood and clapped his hands once more. “Good eye, Jeffy.”

Jeffy swung at the next ball. Missed. “Strike one.”

“Wait for your pitch, buddy.” Rick put his hands on his knees, rubbing the left one to ease the ache—a remnant of a car accident five years before—then returned to his running stance, ready to make a dash for third if the opportunity arose.

The next ball floated across the plate. “Strike two.”

The crowd got to their feet. They could be one pitch away from winning it all. Or losing. They stomped. Shouted. Cheered. Jeffy’s mom hid her head in her hands and turned to the well-dressed brunette in a purple power suit beside her.

Why was she here?

Rick shook his head. Stay focused. “C’mon, Jeffy. Hit her out of here!”

He held his breath as the next ball pinged off Jeffy’s bat and rolled toward first base.

“Foul ball!”

At third base, Tom saw his opportunity and sprinted toward home before the opposing team could react. He slid safely into home plate and tied the game as Rick reached third base.

One hit was all they needed. One solid hit to get Rick home.

He held his hands up. “Time-out.” He started walking toward Jeffy. Time for a pep talk.

* * *

THEOLDERWOMANsitting beside Elizabeth on the bleachers covered her eyes. “I can’t look.”

Elizabeth looked from the woman to the young man talking with Rick at home plate. “Is that your son?”

The woman turned and smiled at Elizabeth. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Afraid not.” She gripped the handles of her Kate Spade bag tighter. “I’m here on business.”

And business was exactly what she should be doing rather than sitting on a hard wooden bleacher, waiting for a chance to talk to Rick. He looked good. Better than good. But five years hadn’t changed him. Same brown hair that looked as if he’d run a comb through it sometime that week. Same warm grin that could make a girl’s toes curl. And if she could get close enough to see his brown eyes, she knew she’d see the familiar twinkle that played with his good-guy image. Five years and he still didn’t see his potential beyond this hick town. Good thing she was there to change all that.

The woman next to her held out her hand. “I’m Martha. Otherwise known in town as Jeffy’s mom.”

Elizabeth turned her attention back to Martha and shook her hand. “Elizabeth.”

“Jeffy loves the game, but because he’s slow, coaches won’t let him play.” She turned adoring eyes back to the two men standing at home plate. “Except for Rick, bless him.”

Rick walked back to third base as Jeffy returned to the batter’s box. Swung the bat a few times. Hunkered down, ready for his pitch.

Martha squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, I can’t watch.”

Elizabeth took the woman’s hand in hers. “I’ll watch for you.” You could get through anything with someone holding your hand.

The pitch. “Ball two.”

The crowd let out their breath and clapped. “Jeffy! Jeffy! Jeffy!”

The pitcher glanced at third base, then threw the ball at the baseman. Rick shook his head. “Just pitch the ball, Stu.” He turned back to Jeffy. “Nice and easy, now. Just like practice.”

Jeffy nodded and tightened his grip on the bat.

The coach from the other team laughed. “No worries, folks. We’ve got the game. That trophy is as good as ours.”

Stu shook off the catcher’s first two calls. He nodded and threw the ball.

Crack.

Martha’s eyes opened. “He hit it?”

Elizabeth grinned and helped her to her feet as Rick flew toward home and planted his feet on home base. He then stood to watch Jeffy charging toward first base before the ball could get there.

His feet touched the base.

The ball hit the baseman’s glove.

“Safe!”

With a roar, fans rushed the field, carrying Jeffy away in their excitement. Elizabeth helped Martha down from the stands, but even his own mother couldn’t get to Jeffy through the crowd. Everyone was hugging him. Shouting and crying. All trying to get the chance to put their hands on the young man the other team said couldn’t play.

Elizabeth couldn’t help but smile. This was better than anything on television.

* * *

MARTHAWALKEDUPto Rick and hugged him. “Thank you for believing in Jeffy.”

“Thanks for letting him play.” He patted her back. “You’re bringing him to the diner after?”

“He wouldn’t let us miss it.” She wiped her eyes and turned to find her son amid the crowd.

The opposing coach cleared his throat until Rick turned around and accepted the trophy. “Thanks.”

The coach shrugged. “We underestimated you.”

“The underdog has to win at least once.” They shook hands briefly before the coach walked away.

“Still tilting at windmills?”

At Lizzie’s voice, Rick turned to face the inevitable moment. It had been coming since he’d spotted her in the bleachers. She looked good. Too good. Despite the fact that she wore her power suit like armor.

“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

He started to walk around the bases, picking them up and slapping them together to get off the dirt. “Because they all say the same thing, Lizzie. And my answer hasn’t changed.”

“If you’d just listen—”

“I don’t need to. True Love was a onetime shot. I don’t need to relive that time of my life. I’ve moved on.” He bent and stuffed the bases into the equipment bags, zipped them shut and hoisted them over his left shoulder. He waved with his free hand to some friends. “See you at the diner,” he called after them when they honked their car horns.

“No offense, Rick, but it doesn’t look like you’ve moved much from when I met you five years ago.”

Rick turned to observe her. One of television’s top reality-show producers stood on a dusty baseball field wearing designer clothes that cost more than what most of the people in this town made in a month. Her haircut, though attractive and stylish, probably cost enough to pay the grocery bills. She didn’t have a clue about how his world operated. Yet here she was. Standing on his turf. Trying to convince him to make another mistake.

He opened his mouth, a smart retort on his tongue, but instead stalked off the field toward the parking lot, where two vehicles remained. He glanced at the rental that obviously belonged to Lizzie and shook his head.

“Something wrong with my car?” He could hear the smile in her voice.

He put the bags in the back of his truck but didn’t look at her. “It’s a convertible.”

“I know.”

He turned to face her. “In Michigan.” She didn’t get it. Probably never would, Rick was sure.

Lizzie’s smile faded into a frown. “And?”

Rick shrugged and sighed as if to say it was her funeral. “The weather changes every five minutes here.”

“But I look good in a convertible.”

He sighed. Some things really didn’t change. “Always going for style over substance.”

“Are you judging me?” She took her sunglasses from the perch atop her head and slid them over her eyes. “I thought we’d gotten past that. I thought we were friends.”

Rick swallowed and tried to fight the feeling that he’d messed up again. “Friends who haven’t talked or seen each other since I got dumped on television.” He took off his ball cap and hit his thigh with it once. Twice. “I apologize, Lizzie. It’s still a sore spot.”

“And it’s still Elizabeth.”

Rick grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “Not to me.”

She strode to her car and took a sleek leather briefcase from the front seat. With a few quick snaps, she opened it and retrieved a thin envelope. “Our offer has increased.”

He glanced at the envelope, then at her. “You could offer me twice as much and my answer would still be no.”

Lizzie fiddled with the contents of her briefcase before placing the envelope back inside. “Rick, this is a chance of a lifetime.”

He swallowed. Yeah, like the chance that had made him a joke on every national newscast for a month. “I already had one of those, remember?”

Lizzie sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Could we at least discuss this over coffee?”

He chuckled. “At the diner we only have half-and-half, not that flavored creamer you like.” He finished throwing the equipment bags into the bed of his pickup truck before slamming the tailgate closed. Turning, he nearly ran Lizzie over.

“How did you remember the creamer?”

Rick shrugged. “How do I remember that Frank gets pancakes with butter and no syrup every day except on Saturday when it’s French toast? How do I know that Miss Maudie wants the crusts cut off her sandwiches and put into a doggie bag to take home to her Yorkie?” He flipped the keys in his hands over a few times. “It’s my job.”

“I’m not your job.”

“But I’m yours?” He glanced at the empty ball field and then back at her. “Why are you here? Why not send one of your interns? Backwater Michigan is a long way from Hollywood for a business call.”

“I needed to see you.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Interesting.”

* * *

ELIZABETHTRIEDNOTto groan. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen. She’d come in person to convince him to do the show, which should have impressed him. Instead it seemed to make him even more resistant to the idea. He was supposed to be desperate for her.

Desperate for the show. That was what she meant.

Rick opened the passenger door of his truck. “Convince me. We’ll talk on the drive to the diner.”

That was more like it. She looked back at the blue convertible. “And leave my car here?”

“It’ll be fine.” Rick glanced up at the sky. “But you might want to put up the top. It could rain.”

Elizabeth looked up. Not a cloud could be seen in the sky. “I’ll take my chances.”

“Your rental agreement covers water damage?”

“There’s no possibility of rain.” Besides, when in all of her twenty-eight years had she done something just because some man told her to? She hopped up into the truck, clicked the seat belt into place and turned to Rick. “I don’t understand why you won’t do the show.”

Rick sighed and shifted the truck into Drive. “You’re relentless.”

“That’s why I’m the best.” Because she knew which buttons to push to get what she wanted. She only needed to dig a little more. “It’s a great opportunity. Aren’t you interested in finding love? In meeting the woman you’re destined to spend the rest of your life with?” She leaned closer, her voice softer, more intimate. “It can work this time. I know it.”

“Why? It didn’t back then.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Kenny Chesney song playing on the radio. “Call me crazy, but I don’t relish the idea of going through that again.”

“It will be different.”

“How? I’ll still be making a fool of myself on TV.” He shifted his gaze to her. “Besides, I had more fun talking with you between takes than on any of those fantasy dates you sent me on.”

She glanced at him before looking out the window again. “Everyone wants you back.”

“Everyone?”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks. “You’re the most popular contestant the show has ever had. We get hundreds of letters a week asking us to bring you back.” She faced him again. “You owe it to America to be on the show.”

“Somehow I think you’re exaggerating things.”

She was losing him. He wasn’t interested in money, love or fame. What else could he want? She changed gears. “If this is about reliving history, we’ll do a better job this time. You won’t end up humiliated and alone.”

“It must be nice to control the universe.”

She reached over and put a hand on his arm. Ignored the skitter in her stomach at the feel of his muscles underneath the denim jacket. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll guarantee it.”

He turned into the parking lot of the diner and parked in the back. “Time’s up.”

She sighed. When had she lost her touch? Men jumped at the chance to have twenty-four beautiful women fawning over them. But then Rick had never been a typical man. “If you would just give me a chance...”

He scratched his head and replaced his ball cap. “Think that’s what I just did.” He got out of the truck, then poked his head back in. “See you inside.”

Elizabeth watched him walk toward the diner. She could hear the loud shouts from those inside as he entered. She had to make him realize he needed to be on the show. Give him the thing he wanted most, whatever that was.

The perfect cheeseburger. That was what she wanted more than anything. Unfortunately, she didn’t eat cheeseburgers anymore. And it didn’t help that she sat outside a diner that she suspected must serve them to perfection.

Elizabeth slammed her hand on the dashboard, then tried to shake away the pain. This was crazy. She could have sent anyone else to come out here to talk to Rick, so why torture herself?

Her cell phone sang a Diana Ross tune, and a chill passed over her. “Hi, Mom.”

“Bethie, I’m in an awful fix.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. How many times had she heard those same words? “Who was he this time?”

“I didn’t know he was married. Honest.” Her mom sighed. “And now he fired me.”

Of course. They always did. “Mom, I can’t talk right now. I’m working.”

“I only need a couple of hundred this time.” Her mom’s voice became whiny, which was not a good sign. “My rent is overdue, and my cupboards are bare. Please, Bethie. You remember what this is like.”

The goose bumps intensified on Elizabeth’s arms, and she shivered. She couldn’t forget, even in her nightmares. “Have you been looking for a job?”

“I’ve applied at a few restaurants, but you know how this economy is.” Her mom started crying. “Who’s gonna hire a washed-up waitress when they could hire any of a dozen half my age? What am I gonna do?”

Elizabeth swallowed and closed her eyes, massaging her forehead in circles as if the motion would turn back time. Give her a different mother. A different childhood. “Tell me where to send it. I’ll have it there by tomorrow morning.”

“You’re the best daughter, Bethie.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I love you.”

Her phone beeped, and she glanced at the incoming phone number. The head of development at the studio. “Mom, I’ve got another phone call coming in. Text me with the details later, okay?”

She switched to the other line. “Elizabeth Maier.”

“Did he sign the contracts yet?”

She wasn’t ready to deal with pressure from the studio. Couldn’t he give her a few days at least? “You’re always to the point, Devon.”

“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He chuckled on the other end. “I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake. We want Rick.”

That had been made abundantly clear. “Yes, sir.”

“You got this job because you promised results. Don’t let us down.”

“I always deliver.” Always had. Always would. She straightened her blouse and sat up straighter. “That’s why you promoted me.”

“Didn’t hurt that your boss was having an inappropriate relationship with one of the bachelorettes, either.” Devon paused. “The story’s been leaked on the internet and hits the newsstands tomorrow.”

Just what she didn’t need. This could make her job even harder. “So much for sitting on the scandal.”

“We need a home run for this show or the studio’s pulling the plug, Elizabeth.” He let that sink in. “And you promised that Rick would be ratings gold.”

“He was last time.”

“So get him to sign. Or...”

The threat hung unspoken between them. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “It’s like I told you. I always deliver. He’ll do it.”

Devon hung up the phone on his end. Elizabeth stared at her cell before quietly turning it off and placing it in her bag. So it was Rick and her job or nothing.

A sudden chill made her shiver again, and she rubbed her arms. She couldn’t go back to the ways of her childhood. To not knowing where she would live or what she would eat. She’d scratched and clawed her way out of poverty and would never return.

Never.

She needed a new plan. Because more than Rick’s future was on the line.

* * *

WHEN RICKENTEREDthe diner full of folks in bright green uniforms, applause broke out. He held up his hands to summon quiet for a moment. “This is definitely a night to celebrate. And luckily, we know exactly how to do that at the diner.”

Cheers sounded around the dining room. Rick walked behind the counter, found an apron and put it on over his softball uniform. His employees looked as if they’d already been taking drink orders, so Rick started at one end of the diner and took food orders. The bell above the front door jingled. Lizzie nodded at him before taking a seat at a table with Jeffy and his mother.

Once everyone had given their orders and food was delivered, Rick drifted over to stand by Jeffy, who smiled around a big bite of his bacon double cheeseburger. Lizzie picked at her chef’s salad, dressing on the side, but stared at Jeffy’s burger. Some people and their dinner choices. “You doing okay here?”

Jeffy’s mom finished her strawberry shake. “Couldn’t be better. Could we, Jeffy?”

Jeffy nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Rick grinned back. “You folks enjoy your dinner. It’s on me tonight. Gotta keep my champ happy so he’ll play for me next year.”

He walked to each table, stopping to chat for a while with team members and their families. That was why the diner sponsored a team every year. Sure, the trophy this year would look great proudly displayed by the cash register. But it was about the friendships that survived off the field year after year. Rick’s family was more than just his mom and brother. This team was as close to him as blood. Family forged by sweat.

By the time the last fry had been eaten and the last plate cleared from each table, Rick was ready to collapse on his sofa and call it a night. Unfortunately, an hour remained until closing, and the dirty dishes soaking in the sink called his name. He groaned and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. A clap of thunder caught his attention. His eyes fastened on Lizzie, whose own eyes opened wide in fear.

She rose on one knee and glanced out the window to watch torrents of rain. “My leather seats!”

Gotta love Michigan weather.

Not that he hadn’t warned her. The problem was that she had no clue about how his life really worked. And maybe that was his solution to getting rid of her. He supposed if he couldn’t get rid of her, maybe he could convince her to do the show his way, in his hometown. If he could gain some control that way, he might agree to it. He approached her table and watched the summer rain pound the parking lot. “That’s why you have insurance.”

She turned and shrugged at him, but her lower lip still jutted out farther than her top lip. Not that he should be looking at her mouth. Instead, he let his gaze settle on the unshed tears in her grass-green eyes. Man, he couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. “Listen, I have an idea.”

She brightened slightly. “You’ll do the show.”

He sighed. Relentless. “I can’t leave my life for three months while you and the other execs mess with it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting a compromise?”

He put one hand on the table and the other on the back of the booth. Leaned in close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume. “I’m suggesting that you spend a week getting to know me. The real me. How my life really works now. And not that Hollywood version you created.” He sighed and shook his head. “How can I expect to find my true love if she doesn’t meet me where I live?”

Lizzie shook her head and glanced around the diner. Sure, it could use a gallon of paint and even more of elbow grease, but this was home to him. When she turned to face him again, she was still shaking her head. “People want fantasy in their reality TV shows. Ironic but true.”

“There is an appeal to small-town living. The pull to lead a simpler life.” He leaned in even closer to her. “Give me the chance to prove it to you.”

Her eyes sparked with interest. “I give you a week to convince me, and what do you give me?”

He sighed. Definitely relentless. “If I can prove to you that we could do the show here, then I’ll do it. I’ll be your guinea pig again.”

“You really mean that?” A smile played around her mouth.

He held out his hand. “You give me a chance, and I’ll give you one.” They shook on it. Rick nodded. “Good. We’ll start here at five tomorrow morning.”

The panic in Lizzie’s eyes made it all worthwhile.

CHAPTER TWO

ELIZABETHARRIVED at the diner when the sky was still a dark grayish-blue with only a hint of pink in the direction of the unrisen sun. Even the roosters had enough sense to keep sleeping, but here she stood. Waiting for Rick to come down and let her in to the diner to start their...what had he called it? Small-town education?

She lightly tapped her cheeks in an effort to wake herself. This tired feeling was more than jet lag. She’d dealt with that often enough to be immune to its effects. Maybe it was the déjà vu being in a small town had brought out. She’d grown up in hick towns; her mother worked restaurant jobs with their low wages, meager tips and free food. And the chance that Elizabeth could sit in a booth for a few hours so her mom didn’t have to pay a babysitter.

Before she could plumb her past any further, the door opened and Rick stood there smiling at her. He should look as tired as she felt, but instead he beamed at her as he ushered her inside. “Ready for your first look at my life?”

She stifled a yawn and nodded. “Does the first look have to come so early?”

“My day usually starts an hour before this, but I thought I’d give you a break.” He leaned toward her, and for a brief moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. He reached past to turn the sign on the door to Open.

He motioned for her to follow him, and she walked behind him into the kitchen. Savory smells of bacon and sausage assaulted her, making her stomach growl. What she wouldn’t give for a sausage patty right now. He opened an oven door, peered in, then adjusted the temperature. When he turned back to face her, he frowned. “Why are you wearing that?”

She glanced down at the outfit she had painstakingly chosen for their day: one of her best power suits in cherry-red and teetering black heels. “I believe you mentioned I’d be meeting people from your town.”

He nodded. “And they’ll eat you alive wearing that. Don’t you own a pair of jeans?”

Denim wasn’t exactly a staple in her wardrobe, but glancing at what Rick was wearing told her it was a part of his. She wiped at an imaginary smudge on her skirt. “I’m sure your friends will appreciate good taste.”

“The grease will ruin that fancy getup within the hour. Go back to your hotel and change.” He turned his back to her and started whisking eggs with flour.

Grease? There’d been no mention of that when they’d made plans for today. What exactly was he planning? “You don’t expect me to actually work here, do you?”

Rick turned back to her with a dazzling smile. It was easy to see why the cameras fell in love with him. “You wanted a glimpse into my life, right? Since Mom handed the diner over to me, I’m here twelve hours a day, six days a week. So that’s where we’re starting.”

She crossed her arms across her chest. Nope. Not happening. “You don’t have anyone to cover for you today?”

“It’s the Lake Mildred Pickle Festival. Busiest weekend of the summer. I’m going to be swamped with orders in about ten minutes and won’t get a break until after the Ladies’ Book Club finishes their last cup of coffee.” He continued to whisk and paused only to add more flour.

She glared, hoping that the effect would turn him into stone. “I thought you were the owner and manager here.”

“I’m whatever they need me to be. Besides, it’s fun.”

Sigh. Not her idea of fun. “And I’m supposed to help you out?”

“That’s the idea, Lizzie.”

She grumbled on the drive back to the bed-and-breakfast to change into the outfit she’d least likely have a fit over if it got ruined. She fumed as she drove back to the diner and parked behind it, where the employees left their cars. And she moaned when Rick threw a clean apron at her and pointed to the stack of dishes that had accumulated in her absence. “Washing dishes? Really?”

Rick started to whistle as he placed slices of bread in a large toaster and pressed the lever. “It’s where all good cooks start.”

“But I’m not a cook,” she muttered under her breath. She couldn’t even make toast without setting off the smoke detectors in her apartment.

She wrinkled her nose at the dried gobs of egg and grease on the first plate. There had to be better ways to get Rick to do the show than this. She glanced behind her at the man in question, who cracked eggs onto the hot griddle. If she could just find out why he’d done the show the first time...

“Dishes don’t wash themselves, Lizzie.” He threw the eggshells into the large trash can next to him as if they were basketballs and he were Kobe Bryant. He walked over and turned on the hot water, then squeezed a healthy dollop of dish soap into the sink. Pointed to the three sinks, the last full of clear liquid. “Wash. Rinse. Sanitize.” He pulled the hose closer to her. “And don’t be afraid to get a little wet.”

She rolled her eyes and dropped the first dish into the sudsy water.

* * *

RICKSWALLOWEDALAUGH as Lizzie glared at him over her coffee cup. She looked like a drowned rat. Her long brown hair was plastered to the sides of her head; her clothes clung to her slight form. Her carefully applied makeup had run two hours ago, leaving her face streaked in brown and blue. “Good job, Lizzie.”

She rolled her eyes and forked a bite of French toast into her mouth, pausing to moan after the first bite. “What do you put in these?”

He shrugged. “Little cinnamon. Lots of love.”

Again with the rolled eyes. She’d be lucky to end the day without a massive headache if she kept that up.

“So are you done torturing me?”

Torture. Interesting word choice. She’d agreed to get a glimpse of his normal life, and now she considered it inhumane. If only she knew. “You’ll probably want to freshen up before the lunch crowd gets here.” Panic washed over her face, but he held up one hand. “Don’t worry. You’re done with the dishes. Jeffy should be here anytime.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank goodness.”

“But I am short a waitress.”

Lizzie stood up and threw her napkin on the table before storming out of the diner. Rick chuckled and took another sip of his coffee. Mission accomplished. Better that she leave now than wait until it was too late.

The bell above the door chimed again. “Ricky.”

He glanced up and swallowed a groan at the sight of his older brother, Dan, wearing a suit and tie. If Mr. High and Mighty stooped to grace the diner with his presence, the news couldn’t be good. Didn’t matter that the diner belonged to the family empire along with the pickle-canning plant and brightly colored cans of pickles on store shelves. Rick knew that the diner didn’t even register on Dan’s radar.

“Need a cup of coffee?” Rick stood and retrieved the coffee carafe from behind the counter, hooked a mug with one finger, then joined his brother in the back booth. He poured the coffee into the empty mug before topping off his own. “Still drink it black or should I find the creamer?”

“Black’s fine.”

Rick nodded and took the seat across from Dan. “What’s wrong? Is it Mom again?”

Dan shook his head, then glanced behind him at the customers gathered at the diner. “We can talk here?”

Any news his brother had to share would be sure to make the gossip rounds in Lake Mildred before too long. “Sure.”

Dan sighed, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. “I’ll be glad when this whole economic downturn is over.”

Downturn? Was that what people losing their jobs, homes and lives was? Rick took a sip of his coffee, mostly to keep from saying what he really wanted to say. “Just tell me what you came here for.”

Dan leaned forward. “I heard that producer is in town.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, Rick nodded. So that was what his visit was about? A pretty face? “Yeah, Lizzie’s here. She might be back in about twenty minutes if you want to talk to her.”

Dan frowned. “Why would I talk to her?”

“She’s cute. All wrong for you, of course. But she does fit your type.” Rick poured some creamer into his coffee and stirred it. “Smart. Pretty. No nonsense.”

“I’m not looking for a date, Rick.” He took a sip of his coffee, then placed the mug on the table. Rubbed his forehead and twitching eye. “She wants you to do that show again?”

He sighed. He couldn’t escape the show, not even with his family. “Don’t worry. I already told her to forget about it.”

Dan frowned and shook his head as if Rick had said the worst thing in the world. “Why would you do a stupid thing like that?”

Wait. His brother wanted him to do the show? “If memory serves, you didn’t want me to do the show the last time. Hated it when I left. Then resented me when I came back home.”

“I was stupid, okay?” He glanced at his cell phone. “All of Dad’s talk about what was good for the family? The company? I think I get it now.”

Rick remembered the discussions he and his dad had had over the show. In the end, it had come down to Rick choosing to help save the family company. “You got it five years too late.”

“I wasn’t CEO then. I didn’t realize what a boon that show could be.” Dan adjusted the lapel of his suit coat. “Last time, our sales went up almost thirty percent. We got distributors in a dozen more states that sold our product. Business at the diner tripled after they aired your hometown visit.” He leaned in closer. “We could use that kind of publicity again.”

“No.”

Dan shook his head. “What’s changed? Dad told you to do the show then. I’m telling you now.”

Telling him what to do yet again. Well, Rick wasn’t the same little brother who went along with Dan’s ideas. He had his own life. His own choices to make. “I’m smarter this time around. I won’t do it.”

“I get it.” Dan jutted his jaw forward, the same way he had since they were kids and he thought he was not only right, but that Rick would be convinced of it, too. “You need to think about it. I’ll call you in a few days.”

“Call me next week. The answer will still be the same.”

Dan stood and placed a hand on Rick’s shoulder. “You’ve got to think of the family, little brother.”

Rick shook his head and bit back a laugh. “I am thinking of the family. You’re focusing on the company’s bottom line.”

“You don’t understand the hole we’re in. And if we fail, this town will never be the same—” Dan broke off and shook his head. “Never mind. This was a mistake.”

Rick got to his feet and leaned in toward Dan. “Why would we fail?”

“Maybe if you read those company reports I send you more than you read the sports pages, you might understand why I’m here.” Dan took one last sip of coffee before slapping the mug on the table. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Rick was getting pretty good at making people storm out of his diner.

* * *

ELIZABETHSTAREDINTOher suitcase as if a waitress uniform would magically appear. Thankfully, she’d never had to go the same route as her mother. She’d known someone who knew someone offering a job as a page on a studio lot when she turned sixteen, and she’d been into television ever since. It was all that she knew. All she wanted. That was why she had to use this week to convince Rick to do the show. If that meant washing mountains of dishes and pouring rivers of coffee, she’d do it.

A pair of khakis peeked at her from the bottom of the suitcase, so she pulled them out and found a sleeveless green shell and matching short-sleeved top to go with it. It was better than nothing. Or at least better than the sopping oxford and slacks that hung over the shower curtain rod in the tiny bathroom of her room at the bed-and-breakfast.

She returned to the diner to find Rick barking orders to his cook through the window. He looked comfortable here. As if he knew that he’d be doing this for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately.

Didn’t he see that he had so much more to offer? She’d watched the dailies again from the last show he’d done and knew that he was made for bigger things than running a small-town diner. Maybe he didn’t want to work for the family company, but he wasn’t being challenged here. That was where she came in. She needed to broaden his horizons. Provide him with a better life. Success on the show would mean opened doors for him, and he could write his own future. Be a celebrity chef if he wanted. Get his own cooking show and endorsement deals.

“I’m back.” She did a Vanna White impression and turned around. “Will this suffice for a waitress?”

Rick looked her up and down, then grimaced. “You sure you want grease to touch that silk shirt?”

“It’s either this or another suit.” She put her hands on her hips. “I didn’t exactly plan on working at the diner this entire week with you.”

“The diner is my life now.” He looked at her outfit again. “We’ll go shopping after lunch.”

She could handle shopping. That thought might get her through whatever he had in store for her. “Is that part of my small-town education?”

Rick grinned and handed her a clean apron to tie around her hips and a blank order pad. “I’ll help you with the first three tables, and then you’re on your own. Got it?”

She produced a popular television show and made it look easy. How hard could this be? “I think I can handle taking a few orders.”

Again with the smile. Why did she get the feeling that there was more to this?

“I’ll still help you with the first three. They can be tricky.”

Rick chose the first table of two older women, who chatted with each other more than glancing at their menus. Elizabeth approached them. “Good afternoon, ladies. What can I get you today?”

Talk ceased as they turned to look at her. Perused her outfit. Glanced at Rick. Then sighed collectively. The woman with salt-and-pepper hair spoke first. “Well, aren’t you the cutest thing?” She turned to Rick. “Where did you find her?”

Rick stepped forward and clasped his hands behind his back. “She’s just helping out a few days for the Pickle Festival. So be gentle with her.”

The two women gave each other telling glances. The fading redhead turned to Elizabeth. “What soups do you have today?”

Elizabeth glanced at the back of her order pad, where she’d written them. “Chicken noodle. Clam chowder. And vegetable.”

The women resumed looking at their menus. The salt-and-pepper looked up at Rick. “Char’s coming in for the festival this weekend, you know.”

Rick gave a tight smile. “You must be looking forward to seeing your daughter.”

Elizabeth glanced at him. He tugged at the collar of his T-shirt and rolled his head on his shoulders. Clearly not a good topic.

“What she’s looking forward to is seeing you again, Rick. Should I tell her to give you a call?”

Rick shifted on his feet until Elizabeth stepped in. “Actually, he’ll be busy with me this weekend. Working the festival and all.” She glanced at Rick. “Isn’t that right?”

Rick sighed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s right. It’s gonna be pretty busy, Mrs. Stanfill.” When the older woman wrinkled her nose, he quickly added, “But I’ll be sure to say hello if I see her in town.”

Red gave her friend a sideways glance, then offered a big smile to Rick. “Donna will be in town, as well. You be sure to say hello to her, too.”

Rick nodded, but he looked as if he’d agreed to pour salt into old wounds. “Elizabeth, why don’t you go ahead and take their orders? I’ve got to check on something in the kitchen.”

Rick left her standing alone. She took a big breath. “So what can I get you?”

* * *

ELIZABETHWASCONVINCEDthat he’d chosen the three most difficult tables to train her on. They all wanted specific orders rather than something off the menu. Maybe he’d put them up to it. Maybe he’d told them to be difficult. She groaned and hoisted the tray of food for the second table onto her shoulder like Rick had shown her. It was heavier than it looked, and she almost sagged under its weight. A drop of oil dripped from the tray onto her blouse.

Great. She’d definitely need that trip to the clothing store. How did people not have to buy a wardrobe at the end of the day working in food service? If nothing else, she would appreciate how hard her server worked the next time she ate at a restaurant. She promised she’d tip better if she could get through this afternoon.

By the end of the lunch rush, she found herself again at the back booth, her feet up and resting on the seat across from her. She’d developed blisters. She must have the way her feet throbbed and ached. She needed better shoes. New clothes. What else would this glimpse into Rick’s life cost her?

“Here.” Rick set a plate laden with a BLT and fries in front of her. “My specialty, just for you.”

She wrinkled her nose at the bacon but one whiff of the sandwich made her stomach grumble loud enough for Rick to hear. He chuckled.

“Thanks.” She laid a napkin on her lap and took a tentative bite.

Mmmmmmmm.

Rick grinned and left, only to return momentarily with his own sandwich. “Mind if I join you?”

“Think the diner will survive without us?” She took another large bite and tried to chew faster to get to the next one.

“I think we have time to eat. You don’t have to rush.” He looked around the dining room, which held a few stragglers left from the rush. “Shirley’s here, so she can take over.”

Elizabeth took another bite of her sandwich and groaned again in delight. There was something different about the bacon. “What’s your secret?”

“If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.” He smirked at her. “I bake the bacon rather than frying it. Sprinkle it with Cajun seasonings and brown sugar to give it a little something special.”

She wiped her mouth with her napkin. “This is fantastic.”

“Thank you.”

They ate in silence until Elizabeth pushed her plate away. It held only a few of the fries and a stray piece of lettuce. She patted her very full belly. “I can’t eat another bite. What are you trying to do to me?”

He looked her over. “You could use some fattening up.”

“Now you sound like a grandmother.” Not that she’d ever known one personally. Yet another part of childhood she’d missed.

Rick stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. They smiled at each other, not saying a word. Not needing to. When he was finished, he wiped his mouth and rubbed his flat stomach. “That really hit the spot.”

It felt good to sit. To put her feet up and relax. She almost hated to ask, but she did. “So what’s next on the agenda?”

“I show you around town. The Pickle Festival kicks off tonight, so what better way to see it than that? The rides. The food. The people.” He winked at her. “You won’t be able to resist.”

If only that were true. “Even if we agree to tape here, you’ll still have to come to L.A. for the live finale. That’s a tradition we can’t break.”

“I’m not asking to break anything. Just change it a little.”

Elizabeth nodded, then attempted to get to her feet, which protested. She sat back down. “As long as we’re not talking about long walks anywhere, I’m in.”

CHAPTER THREE

SEEINGTHENATURALbeauty of Michigan would woo Lizzie, who would in turn convince the suits, so Rick followed the scenic route along the lake. The sun glanced off the smooth dark green surface of the water while boats drifted in the distance. Picturesque cottages and run-down fishing shacks shared the shore, providing its tenants with lake living.

When it was safe to do so, he pulled the truck over to the side of the road and held out his hand to help her down. She groaned as her feet touched the ground, only reminding him that working in his diner had taken a lot out of her. But she was a trouper. Whether it was to convince him for the show or something else, it didn’t matter. He admired her spunk.

“I was thinking that this would really look spectacular on film.” Though he still had no desire to do the show, the idea of filming here was growing on him. It could be just the boost the Lake Mildred economy needed. He turned back to gauge her impression. “It’s amazing here in the spring. Summer. Fall. Even winter with all the snow.”

Her eyes widened. “Snow?”

She’d probably never seen a snowflake, much less a foot of the white stuff dumped overnight. “When were you looking to film the show?”

“A live Valentine’s Day kickoff. Then live again for the finale in time for the May sweeps.”

“So snow, then budding flowers. Nice.” He looked out over the lake and took a deep breath. He’d tried the California atmosphere, but he’d been homesick for this the entire time. The clean air. The lap of the waves on the shore. Even the splash of fish, who were practically calling his name to catch them. “We could do a ski fantasy date. Or an ice-fishing expedition. Later in the spring, they could even try out for my softball team.”

“You really want us to come here? Disturb the peace of your small town?” She looked around her. “I’ll admit this would look good on television. Practically a postcard from Middle America. But we wouldn’t leave this place the way we found it.”

“Besides bringing your audience a taste of real America, you’d also be bringing local jobs for the time you’re here. Jobs that people could really use.” He stepped closer to her. “You’d need people to drive. To build. To cater. Sure, you could bring some of those people from L.A. out here, but think of what you could save by hiring locally. You could improve the town’s economy.”

She looked at him as if he’d suggested that they could cure cancer while they were at it. “We’re a television show. Don’t give us too much credit.”

“Lizzie.” He stepped closer. “My dad always told me that with our money came responsibility. I had to give back in any way I could. If I do the show, I want to be able to help the people who have supported me. Will you help me do that?”

She sighed. “You’ve given me some things to think about, but I’m going to need more than this. Where would I house twenty-four women? As well as a crew of two dozen more. The bed-and-breakfast I’m at is nice, but let’s be realistic. We need something a lot bigger.”

Rick nodded and considered the issue. “What about some of these abandoned homes? Couldn’t you rent one of those?”

“And fix it up with what money? The studio owns a mansion specifically for this show. It works for a reason.”

She always had to look on the bleak side, didn’t she? But he could see the wheels turning in her head behind the skeptical expression. She might be throwing up objections, but he could tell she saw the benefits. “What if you don’t pay me for my time on the show? What if you instead use that check to do this?”

She turned and looked at him closely. “You’d do that?” She didn’t seem convinced.

Rick knew it could work. Bring the show. Put people to work. Keep some kind of normal life while living it out in front of a national audience. It had to work. “To get the show here? Yeah.”

She crossed her arms. “Keep talking.”

“Consider the tax breaks the state would give you for filming here. The cost of living is less, so you’d be getting bargain prices on the things you take for granted in Hollywood.”

“Let’s say we could rent a house around here. Two dozen women sharing one, maybe two bathrooms? Even that’s a little too real for television.”

Rick grinned. “And a whole lot of fun.”

Lizzie held up her hands. “Okay. Show me more.”

* * *

BYTHETIMEthey got in the truck and headed back to the diner for dinner, Elizabeth was dog tired. She doubted she’d be awake long enough to eat, much less call Devon with an update. And she had to admit the idea of filming here had started to wiggle into her already clicking mind. It would be a change, something that could spark ratings for a show that was starting to show its age. Rick might be onto something.

Instead of going to the diner, however, Rick turned his truck into the driveway of a large Victorian house with a wraparound porch and pulled around back near the lakefront. Elizabeth looked at the manicured landscape outside and frowned. “We’re having dinner here?”

Rick wiggled his eyebrows. “First we’re going to catch it. Then we’ll eat here.”

Elizabeth groaned. “You’re taking me fishing? Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?”

“Think of it as part of your Michigan experience.” He got out of the truck and retrieved fishing poles and a tackle box from behind the front seat. “And you haven’t really lived until you’ve eaten something you’ve caught.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. This was not what she had signed up for. Still, she was hungry and she’d agreed to do what was necessary to get Rick for the show. “Fine. But I’m not cleaning any icky fish. You get that job.”

“Sure, Lizzie.”

“Elizabeth,” she muttered under her breath as she followed him to the dinghy tied to the dock on the lake.

Rick held out one hand and helped her step into the boat. She spread her arms to catch her balance before taking a seat on the narrow wooden bench. Rick untied the boat from the dock and stepped inside, pushing off. He took a seat, then pulled the chain for the motor. They putted out to the center of the lake while Elizabeth watched the sun lower in the west behind a wall of magnificent trees. She closed her eyes.

“This place is getting to you.”

She opened her eyes. “I’m tired.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Rick steered them out farther and cut the engine. He handed her a pole. “Have you ever fished before?”

“When I was a kid, my mom took me to the Santa Monica pier. Some guy let me hold his pole while he ran to get a hot dog.” She shrugged. “All I did was stand there.”

“So you’re an expert.”

He opened the tackle box and removed a small plastic container. It was full of black dirt and wriggling worms. Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I’m not putting one of those on my hook.”

“Relax. I’ll bait it for you.”

He removed one long worm and wound it around her hook while Elizabeth squelched a squeal. She wasn’t naive. She understood the circle-of-life thing. Instead of allowing Rick to think she was squeamish, she accepted the pole. “Now what?”

“Cast it out toward the middle of the lake.”

She looked at him and raised one eyebrow. “Cast is something I hire for a show.”

“Ha-ha. Watch me.” He swung the rod back slightly, then flicked it forward, sending his line out in a perfect arc that Elizabeth doubted she could repeat.

In fact, she couldn’t repeat it. After three failed attempts, Rick cast the line for her. She sighed. “What’s next?”

“We wait.” He wound the reel in a bit and lifted his face to the sky, his eyes closed.

Elizabeth watched him. He had a boyish charm that the audience had loved. He was also funny and sensitive. Why he was still single after all this time was a mystery to her. He was the type of guy who should be a husband and father. “What happened after you came home last time?”

Rick opened one eye and groaned. “Do we have to talk about that?”

“I’m surprised that some woman didn’t snap you up the moment you arrived home, single and willing.” She wound the reel a couple of clicks like she had seen him do. “You still want to get married and have kids, right? So why didn’t you make that happen?”

Rick rubbed his forehead with his free hand. “Were you not there when I got publicly humiliated?”

“It’s been five years. People forget.”

“You have hundreds of letters a week that say otherwise.” He turned his gaze on her. “I guess no one wanted to date a loser.”

“You’re not a loser.” Elizabeth pulled her pole back slightly, mirroring Rick’s movements. “You are a catch. And any woman who doesn’t realize that is not only blind, but also not worth your time.”

“Then I live in a town full of the sightless.” Rick reeled his line in and cast it farther out. “Do you know they had a viewing party at the diner for the night of the finale? All my family and friends were gathered together to watch me propose. Instead they saw me dumped and humiliated.”

“I think you’re the only one who’s not over that already.” She glanced at his eyes shadowed beneath his ball cap. “But I do have one question.”

“Only one? You’re slipping.”

“Did you love Brandy?”

He swallowed and adjusted the ball cap again. Then he moved his fishing pole and wound the reel a couple of turns, clearly stalling for time. “Yes.” His voice croaked. “And the crazy thing is I thought she loved me, too. Only, she was pretending for the cameras.”

“You don’t know that.”

Rick looked up at her with troubled eyes. “She chose him over me. How else do you explain it?”

She reached out and touched his knee. Then she quickly removed her hand. “You knew she was dating you both. That there was a chance...”

“But it felt real.” He shrugged. “That’s why I’m conflicted about doing the show. How am I supposed to know what’s real and what’s for the sake of the cameras? How can I trust my heart to someone else who might be pretending?”

She longed to remove the hurt from his eyes. “That’s why you have me. I’ll protect you. Like I should have the last time.” She glanced out toward the lakeshore. “We were friends. I should have...” She looked back at him. “I want to be friends again. And I’ll help you get what you want.”

“How do you know what I want?”

“Because it’s my job to figure it out. With your help, of course.”

He gazed into her eyes until she supposed he could see her soul. If they were any two other people, this would be the perfect moment to kiss. Her lips tingled at the thought.

Rick leaned forward. She closed her eyes. “I think you’ve got a bite.”

Her eyes flew open, and she tugged on the line. Sure enough, something was resisting at the other end. She squealed and stood up. Rick reached out and put a hand on her calf. “Careful. You’re going to capsize the boat.”

She wound the reel and shouted as a long silvery-green fish appeared at the end of her line. “I caught a fish!”

Rick reached up to steady her, and she threw herself into his arms.

Later, as they sat dripping wet at the campfire, she could point out where she went wrong before the boat capsized. Thankfully, Rick never raised his voice. Unfortunately, he didn’t say a word, either.

Elizabeth held out her hands toward the fire to absorb the heat. She looked over at Rick, who pulled his hooded jacket closer around him. “I’m sorry. Again.”

Nothing.

She looked into the fire, hoping to find the right words. “I know you warned me, but I was so excited. I’ve never caught a fish.”

Still nothing.

She sighed. “I’m sorry it got away.”

He cleared his throat.

She settled farther into the Adirondack chair. “And that we lost your fishing pole.”

His eyes flickered to hers briefly, then concentrated on the campfire again. Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her head on the back of the chair. Silence was good. They were both tired. And wet.

Her stomach growling broke the silence. Rick’s answered in turn.

And they were both hungry.

“I want to make this up to you.” She leaned forward. “I’ll treat you to the best dinner. Anywhere you want.”

“Lizzie...”

She sighed. “He speaks.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stood and smothered the fire, then walked toward the house.

Elizabeth watched him leave, then rose and ran after him. “We still need to eat dinner.”

Rick stopped and looked at his wet clothes, then hers. “No one would serve us like this. And I’m too hungry to change.” He turned back and continued walking.

“Where are you going?”

“Mom probably has enough food in her cupboards to feed your entire crew for three months.” He grinned at her. “First one there gets dibs.”

And with that, he sprinted toward the house. Elizabeth laughed and ran after him.

* * *

GREENOLIVES. Sweet pickles. Crackers and cheese. Leftover pasta salad. It was a feast, and Rick enjoyed every bite.

They sat on stools at the kitchen island while they ate with their fingers. He stopped eating momentarily to find napkins. He handed one to Lizzie, who grinned around a mouthful of salad. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda and placed one at each plate. “You must be thirsty.”

Lizzie nodded her thanks and opened her drink. She looked around the kitchen. “Where’s your mom?”

Rick popped the top of his drink and took several long pulls. It burned going down, but it was that good kind of burn. “It’s the first night of the Pickle Festival, which means she’s probably manning the fried-pickle tent.” At Lizzie’s frown, he continued, “You haven’t tasted heaven until you’ve had a fried pickle. Trust me.”

“I heard you mention it before, but what exactly is a pickle festival?”

“Last night’s championship game was the kickoff to a weekend full of pickles here. Courtesy of Allyn Pickles, of course.” He fished out a sweet gherkin from the jar and handed it to her. “It’s a huge deal for the town every year. Financially speaking. Lots of tourists. Family reunions. Homecomings. Everyone looks forward to it.”

Lizzie looked down at her clothes. “Speaking of a huge deal, we didn’t get any clothes for me. I can’t work in your diner dressed in my regular clothes.”

“Next town over also has a Meijer, which is open twenty-four hours.” Lizzie’s mouth gaped, and Rick laughed. “We may be backwater, but we do have some conveniences.” He nodded at her empty plate. “So eat some more and then we’ll shop.”

She stifled a yawn. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be functioning. What time are you planning on torturing me tomorrow?”

She did look exhausted. He’d put her through the wringer and had plans for more. “You did such a great job today, I’ll let you sleep in. We can meet at seven.”

“That’s sleeping in?” she moaned.

He shook his head. “You’ve had early calls for the show. How is this different?”

“For all you know I complained then, too.” She tried to laugh, but it didn’t sound right.

Rick frowned. Something didn’t add up. “I thought you were a producer. Shouldn’t all this be part of your job?” Lizzie stuffed the pickle into her mouth, making talking impossible. His frown deepened. “What aren’t you telling me?”

She chewed, then swallowed. “It’s complicated.”

“You are still on the show, right?”

She nodded. “I’m executive producer. For now.”

“For now?” She was about to fill her mouth with crackers, but he stayed her arm. “Tell me.”

She sighed. “It’s no big deal.”

“If you can’t tell me, then yes, it is.”

She looked down at the plate. Finally, she lifted her gaze to meet his. “If you don’t do the show, we’re canceled.”

CHAPTER FOUR

ELIZABETHPOUREDthe eightieth cup of coffee that morning before returning to the kitchen. Rick turned to beam at her from the dish sink, and her breath caught in her throat. Remind her why this man wasn’t taken. She shook her head at the stupidity of the women in this town out in the sticks. Being small-town didn’t mean being foolish, but these women needed to get a clue and snap Rick up before two dozen gorgeous contestants descended here.

She paused. Was she really considering moving the show? She shook her head. This place was getting to her.

A bell over the door signaled a new customer. Elizabeth took a deep breath and walked into the dining room, almost mowing down an older version of Rick. He glanced at her outfit. “You’re the producer?”

Elizabeth held out her hand. “Dan, right? I’m Elizabeth.” She marveled at the strength of his handshake. “And yes, I’m the producer. But at the moment, I’m a waitress. Can I get you some coffee?”

“He likes it black and strong.” Rick joined them and leaned on the counter. “Shouldn’t you be checking the floats or bands or something?”

Dan accepted the cup she offered him and took a sip. “It’s been done.”

Elizabeth frowned. “Floats?”

Rick nodded toward the windows, where people had started gathering on the sides of Main Street. “The Pickle Parade starts at noon. And Dan the man is the grand marshal again.”

“That’s what I came to talk to Elizabeth about.” Dan leaned against the counter. “Ever ridden in the back of a convertible and waved to a crowd?”

Rick stepped in between them. “Forget it. She’s busy.”

“Pouring coffee and slinging hash? I need her more.” Dan sighed and ran his hand through his hair, reminding Elizabeth of his brother. “Miss Brown County can’t make it now, and the people need to see someone new. Someone classy.” He glanced at Elizabeth. “She’ll have to do.”

She was sure there was a compliment in there somewhere. “I can’t possibly do it dressed like this.” She glanced at her brand-spanking-new purple T-shirt and jeans.

Dan grabbed her hand. “Martha’s across the street. I’m sure she’ll have something that will fit you.”

Rick grabbed her other hand. “Dan, Elizabeth never agreed to do it. When are you going to stop and realize that not everyone jumps when you tell them to?”

Dan pulled her closer to him. “She has to do this. It’s her responsibility.”

Rick tugged her back to his side. “It’s your responsibility to make sure that people show up. Not hers.”

“Gentlemen.” Elizabeth removed her hands from theirs and held them out to separate the brothers. “First of all, I can choose for myself. Second—” she looked between them, then nodded “—I’ll help out.”

Rick stared at her. “Lizzie, you don’t—”

“You wanted me to get to know the community, right?” She smiled wider. “What better way than from the back of a convertible?” She turned to Dan. “So where’s Martha? Let’s see what she has.”

Dan grinned back at her, and she was struck by how good the Allyn boys looked. “I knew I liked you. Come with me.”

* * *

RICKWATCHEDFROMthe sidelines as Lizzie, dressed in a pink sparkly dress, passed by sitting on the back of a red convertible. She even blew a kiss to him. Or perhaps to the kid standing in front of him, but it landed in his general direction. He’d take what he could get.

When the parade ended, he locked up the diner and joined the crowd as they walked down the street to the park, where rides and booths had magically appeared over the past few nights. He found Lizzie still standing near the convertible, surrounded by a group of local men who were trying to get her attention. When she turned and smiled at him, he lost his breath.

Must be the gasoline fumes.

He moved through the crowd and parked himself closest to her. “Madam, I believe we have a date.”

She raised one eyebrow. “We do?”

“With a deep-fried pickle. I believe I promised you one?” He put his hand at the small of her back. “I know where they sell the best.”

She sighed deeply as they left the crowd. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Part of my service.” He steered her in the direction of the large tent at the center of the park. “They’re smitten with shiny new things.”

She ran her hand down one hip. “Miss Martha does wonders with sequins and a short deadline.”

“You look fabulous.” He motioned to the open tent flaps. “Now, prepare yourself for a culinary treat that few can top.”

He grabbed her hand and walked behind the counters. They skirted past several deep fryers and walked to the far end of the tent. Rick pulled a basket out of one of the fryers and tipped it onto a cloth-covered plate. He held out a golden disk to her lips. “Open.”

Lizzie opened her mouth, and Rick placed the deep-fried pickle on her tongue. “Now, tell me that isn’t the best thing you ever ate.”

She chewed slowly. “It’s good.”

“Good? It’s fabulous.” Rick took one and popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes and let the flavors play on his tongue.

She swallowed the pickle and looked around the tent. “Are you allowed to come back here and help yourself?”

“My question exactly.” His mom walked around the tables and poked a finger at Rick’s chest. “Who’s watching the diner?”

Rick rubbed his chest. “It’s closed until five for dinner, Ma. It’s fine.”

She shook her head, then glanced at Elizabeth. “Miss Brown County?”

“Not quite. Elizabeth Maier from—”

“True Love. Yep.” Rick’s mother glanced at Elizabeth’s outstretched hand but didn’t shake it. “Thought I recognized you. What are you doing here?”

“Ma...” He should have known his mother wouldn’t be happy Lizzie was there. “She’s in town on business.”

“As long as she’s not here to mess with you again.” His mom looked back at Lizzie. “Are you?”

Rick put his hands on his mother’s shoulders. “It’s business, Ma.”

“I asked her, not you.” She moved around him and walked up to Lizzie.

“Ma...” Not that his mom would take the warning, but at least he could say he had tried. He braced himself for the confrontation.

Lizzie looked down at her feet, then up at his mother. “I assure you, Mrs. Allyn, I have the best intentions.”

His mom stared her right in the eyes and gave her the look he’d dreaded as a kid. It meant she knew what he was up to and she wasn’t having one bit of it. “And was it your best intention for my son to get dumped on television?”

“No, but it is my intention to find him a wife.” Lizzie took a step closer so that she could tower slightly over his mom.

Rick watched as the two women squared off, neither one conceding. “Ma, I’m going to show Lizzie more of the festival. But we’ll see you for dinner tomorrow?”

He leaned over and kissed his mom’s cheek. Then he held out his hand to Lizzie. “Now that you’ve tried the fried pickles, you have to taste the dill-pickle soup.”

Lizzie wrinkled her nose, but she followed him.

* * *

THISSMALLTOWNcould do things to a person. She’d only been in Lake Mildred two days, and part of her was wondering what living there would be like. People smiled and said hello. Acted as if she’d been one of them for years. She didn’t feel rushed or anxious. She hadn’t thought of her voice mail or email for hours. In fact, she hadn’t glanced at her cell phone since the parade two hours before.

Rick turned toward her when she sighed. “It gets to you, right?”

She shrugged and pulled on the hem of her dress. She should have changed after the parade. Or at least after they’d sampled the fried dill pickles, the dill-pickle soup, the gherkin mousse. She should have passed on that last one. But the pickle pâté had been fabulous. The lure of the festival had kept them in the park, enjoying the booths and the people surrounding them. “I guess it is getting to me.”

He stopped at the ticket booth and purchased two wristbands, then tied one to her wrist. “Which ride should we try first? The tilt-a-whirl or the scrambler?”

She put a hand over her stomach. “I’d like to keep my lunch down, thanks.”

Rick laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Your joie de vivre?”

“It prefers not to spend life with my head in the toilet.” She looked around at the rides. There had to be something tame. “Why not the Ferris wheel?”

Rick glanced up at it, then grabbed her hand and sprinted toward the line. “You won’t believe the view up there. You’ll be able to see the whole town.”

“All square mile of it? Can’t wait.”

When they reached the beginning of the line, Rick let her take a seat first before joining her. They got locked into the seat, then took a deep breath as the operator gave a thumbs-up.

The view at the top took Elizabeth’s breath away. Trees grew lush and green. The sunlight glinted off the lake and winked with the promise of fun times. Small homes were built around the town square and farther beyond. Cottages lined the lakeshore. Part of her suddenly yearned for a place in this community.

Rick nodded. “I told you it was spectacular.”

“You weren’t kidding.” The camera would love it. She turned to him. “You understand that our coming here would forever change the peace and quiet. We couldn’t leave this place as it is now. For months, it would be chaos with the contestants and crew. We’d clog your streets and your businesses, and leave the mess for you to clean up. And then the gawkers would descend.”

“What I know is that it would bring jobs and money to people who need both more than you know.” He pointed at a home with a tree house in the backyard. “It would mean Steve wouldn’t lose his house.” He pointed to another with a covered porch. “Or that Shelly could feed her kids this winter.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes. She knew what it was like to be hungry. What it meant not to know if there would be dinner that night. “I can’t guarantee Devon will go for this idea.”

Rick settled back into the seat. “You tell him it’s either you have me here or I don’t do it at all.”

“That’s a pretty big threat.”

He reached out and touched her hand. “I won’t let you lose your job over me, but I won’t lose myself in the process, either. I’m not going to lie, the idea of doing the show again is making me quake in my sneakers. But as long as we can establish some ground rules, if we can do it my way, then everyone will be happy.”

Uh-oh. His way? She was the producer here, not him. “You ask for a lot.”

Rick shrugged. “So do you.”

She watched the emotions play over his face. He wanted to save this town, but at what cost to himself? He was a good man. Too good for this business. Elizabeth reached out and touched his face, then snapped her hand back as if he’d burned her. What was she doing?

“Lizzie.” The hoarseness of his voice seemed to shock even him.

“Elizabeth.”

He leaned back and looked out over the treetops. “Come to Sunday dinner tomorrow afternoon at my mom’s.”

After the confrontation in the food tent, that was a shock. “Why?”

He turned to her. “Because that’s what I do every Sunday. Spend it with my family. And maybe if we talk some more, we can figure this out. Give my mom a second chance. Isn’t that what you’re offering me here?”

Was it? Elizabeth wasn’t sure anymore.

* * *

ELIZABETHADJUSTEDher black skirt and straightened her pink linen jacket while wondering for the eighty-ninth time why she had agreed to do this. She’d gone to great lengths to secure contestants in the past, but this topped them all.

She exhaled as she saw Rick come down the back stairs from his apartment to where she waited by her convertible.

“Good morning.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

She glanced at her watch. “It’s technically afternoon.”

Rick grinned and shrugged. “Close enough.” He moved next to her to lean against the car. “Ready for this?”

Elizabeth’s insides vibrated with tension, and she clutched her stomach. “I’m not hungry.”

“We’ll eat. Talk. Maybe watch a ball game. And have a great afternoon.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “My family wants to get to know you.”

Why? She was about to change Rick’s life again. Maybe coming here hadn’t been a good idea. If she hadn’t been so worried about her job... Instead of asking, she smiled. “Then I’d love to.”

Rick’s shoulders sagged in what looked like relief. “Thanks. You’ll be saving us from a week of leftovers—roast-beef sandwiches, roast-beef salad, beef pâté.”

Elizabeth wiped the sweat off the back of her neck. “Your mother made a roast in this heat?”

Rick shrugged. “She likes to cook.”

What would it have been like to have grown up with a mom like that? Elizabeth couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Is that where you learned it?”

He nodded. “She taught me everything I know. She’s the best.”

“Which you obviously use in your job.” She turned and looked at him. “Did you know the diner would be your life the last time I saw you?”

He took so long in answering her, she thought at first he hadn’t heard what she’d said. At last, he sighed. “No, it’s not where I pictured my life passing. I imagined ball fields and team buses. But things changed after the car accident. And the diner stepped in and took the place of that dream. I spend most of my days there because it’s easier than looking at my life and wondering what the future holds.”

“So what do you want?”

He patted his stomach. “To go to lunch. I’m starving.”

She unlocked her car door and stood in the opening while she looked at him. “Should I follow you out to your mom’s?”

Rick peered past her to the inside of her car. “Actually, I’ll ride with you. Can we put the top down?”

She shook her head. “You’re worse than a kid.”

He grinned at her, and a punch landed in her stomach. Wow.

With his help, they put the soft top down on the convertible and she settled into the driver’s seat. He bounced slightly in the seat and tried all the knobs on the dashboard. She playfully swatted his hand, then turned the key in the ignition. “It’s a car, not a toy.”

He chuckled and settled back in the passenger seat, eyes closed and sun streaming onto his face. “I love Sundays.”

“I can tell.”

He opened one eye and looked at her. She turned her gaze back to the road. “You don’t?”

She shrugged. “In my world, it’s just another day. Another day of phone calls, meetings and... Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You really need to find a hobby.” He turned his focus back to the road. “Turn left up here, and we’ll follow the lake to the house.”

* * *

RICKHELPED LIZZIEout of the car, then walked around the house to the back door.

He opened the door and popped his head inside. “Mom?” The smell of roasting beef tickled his nose, so he knew she was around somewhere. He turned back to Lizzie. “She’s probably changing from her church clothes.”

Lizzie looked down at her suit. “Do I look okay?”

He smiled. Always worried about how she looked. He wore his Detroit Tigers T-shirt and favorite jeans. He didn’t have to worry. “You’re not meeting my family as a girlfriend, so stop worrying. They’ll love you.”

“Until they find out I’m bringing you back to the show again.” She shut the door behind her. “We really need to talk.”

He held up a hand. “I know. Later.” It was definitely a conversation that could wait.

His mom entered the kitchen and walked over to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “My handsome boy.” She turned to Lizzie. Her expression changed from affection to distrust. “I’ve agreed to be civil, for Rick’s sake.” Lizzie fidgeted until his mom looked her over and sighed. “Rick’s right. You need some fattening up. I hope you’re hungry.”

Rick took a step between Lizzie and his mom. Better to keep them at a distance for now. “Is Danny here yet? I’m starving to death.” He patted his empty stomach again.

His mom rolled her eyes. “Never mind him, Lizzie. He’s always hungry.”

“Elizabeth.”

His mom checked on the roast in the oven, then turned to them. “Rick, you’re on table duty. Lizzie, if you’d help me make a salad, then we’ll be able to eat once Dan arrives. Now, why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on with you two.”

Lizzie colored as pink as her suit. Rick cleared his throat. “I’ve agreed to do the show again, Ma.”

She stopped pulling vegetables from the crisper and turned to face him. He swallowed and felt exactly like he used to when waiting for his father to come home and discipline him for goofing off in school. He hadn’t wanted to blurt it out like that, but it was better to say it now rather than waiting for Dan to start spinning this to his advantage. He watched for his mother’s reaction.

She nodded and took a seat at the kitchen island. Rick helped to put the vegetables on the counter and shut the refrigerator. He chuckled, trying to keep it light. “I didn’t expect you to be overjoyed, but speechless? Wow.”

“Why do you want to put yourself through that, honey?” She put her hands on either side of his face. “Do you think you could handle it again?”

He glanced at Lizzie, who started to peel the plastic wrap from the head of lettuce. His producer wasn’t being any help, so he shrugged. “I’m still single. Still haven’t found the right woman. Why not open the odds up a little in my favor?”

“It didn’t work the last time.” She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “I begged your father to let you off the hook. We didn’t need that ridiculous show to survive.”

“Mrs. Allyn, the chances of Rick finding a wife are better this time. He’ll be the focus of our show. The one doing the choosing.”

His mom turned to her. “I can’t believe you’re torturing him again with this. You don’t know what it was like when he came back. The pain—”

“Ma.” She turned back to him. He’d do anything to ease the worry in her eyes. “I know you’re trying to protect me. But this time will be different.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He winked at Lizzie. “Because we’re doing it my way this time.”

Lizzie paled but gave a weak nod to Ma when she looked at her. “Rick wants more control this time. We still have to work out the details, but he wants to film here in town.”

Rick crossed his arms. “I more than want it. I’m going to have it or there will be no show.”

Lizzie accepted the knife from his mom. She started to chop the tomato. “I understand that you want to avoid what happened last time, but there are certain requirements, restrictions, that the show places not only on the contestants, but—”

He held up one hand. “Don’t try to produce me right now, Lizzie.” He turned back to his mom. “When are you going to stop worrying about me?”

She tried to give him a smile, but he could see what it cost her. “You’ll always be my baby.”

He hugged her and rubbed her back. “Someday you’ll have to trust me to make big-boy decisions.”

“What’s wrong?”

Rick turned to Dan, who had entered the kitchen, shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on the back of a stool. “Mom’s worried about me doing the show again.”

Dan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re really going to do it.”

“Yes, Dan. I think so.” He glanced at Lizzie, who watched his reaction closely. “I’m almost positive.” He turned back to his mom. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes, so that’s why we’re doing the show here. You’ll get to know all the women throughout the whole process. And give me advice.” He turned to face Dan. “When I ask for it.”

“Taping here means that we can showcase Allyn Pickles even more. Make a national audience aware of what we offer.” His mercenary brother’s eyes glazed over with the possibilities, and Rick sighed and patted his mom’s arm.

“I’ll set the table, and we can discuss this over dinner. Okay?”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t really there. He walked to the cupboard and pulled out dishes and glasses, then disappeared into the dining room. It was mindless work, but that was what he needed to clear his mind.

“What happened after the show last time?”

Rick glanced up from a dinner plate and frowned at Lizzie, who stood in the doorway watching him. “You’re supposed to be making a salad.”

“Your mom took over, so I came in here to talk to you.”

He finished placing the plates on the table and turned to the sideboard drawer where his mom kept the cloth napkins. He folded four and walked around the table, placing them where they belonged next to each plate. “I don’t need to talk.”

“What happened that’s got your mom so scared for you to do this show?”

She stepped in front of him so that he had to look at her or push her out of his way. He chose to look at her. “It’s complicated.”

“That’s my response. Get your own.”

He sighed and moved around her to retrieve the silverware from the sideboard. He pulled out four forks, four spoons and four knives, then slammed the drawer shut and braced his hands on either side of him. “It wasn’t good.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to do this show, but not if it’s going to hurt you.”

He looked down at her soft mouth. “You want your job. Dan wants his publicity. The town needs the money. Do I really have a choice?”

“You always have a choice, Rick.” She dropped her hand but kept her gaze on his. “Tell me what happened last time.”

He closed his eyes. “Some people run when trouble comes. Others throw themselves into work.” He opened his eyes and saw her watching him, a frown marring her brow. He might as well tell her the whole story, because his family would if he didn’t. “I retreated to my family’s cottage. Didn’t go out. Didn’t work. Cut myself off from everybody and everything. I couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. I became disoriented and got behind the wheel of my car to drive back home. I didn’t wake up until I hit a tree. After crushing my knee in the accident, I lost even my dream of playing with the pros.” He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. “But I won’t let it happen again. And you’re going to help me make sure of that.”

CHAPTER FIVE

BY FEBRUARY, Lake Mildred was ready, poised on the brink of either publicity or infamy. Rick poured another round of coffee for his regulars and tried to maintain his good mood despite their incessant questions.

Would the production crew hire local people to help out as they had agreed in the contract? Rick knew they would and had signed papers to make it so. Lizzie had promised, and he knew he could trust her.

Would the show bring more tourists in? Probably, depending on the ratings. If it was popular, they’d want to come experience the place for themselves. If it ended as it had before, they’d want to come gawk at the man destined to be alone.

Would he find a wife? He prayed that he would. There was no other option on this. Either he met the woman meant to be his wife or he’d choose someone who was close enough to his list of expectations and hope that love would grow between them. He wearied of going to bed alone, waking up alone. He didn’t want to keep living with only his thoughts.

He replaced the coffee carafe in the machine and leaned on the counter. Ernesto, the cook, came out from the kitchen and joined him. “You ready to give this all up?”

Rick snorted and glanced around the dining room. “It’s only for a couple of months. Don’t get used to not having me here.”

“You’re the lifeblood here at the diner. In the community.” Ernesto put a hand on his shoulder. “What you’re doing for us now is...” His voice broke, and he shook his head.

“I’m not a savior, Ern.” Rick pushed himself off the counter and went to stand at the front window, watching as road crews filled in potholes that had cropped up after each thaw. There had been talk of repaving, but it wasn’t sound fiscal judgment in the winter.

But it was more than the potholes being filled. Rick had added fancy coffee drinks to his menu, and a bright copper espresso machine had arrived that he’d had to learn and teach his staff to use. Lizzie said it would draw the crew and contestants in like mosquitoes to a bug zapper. Outside the diner, the community task force had repainted benches, shored up docks and ordered more road salt for the snow that hadn’t stopped since New Year’s Day.

All so he could find a wife and Lizzie could keep her job.

Rick turned away from the window and walked back into the kitchen. Freshly baked cakes lined the stainless-steel counters, cooling and waiting for frosting.

The phone rang, but Rick let Ernesto answer it by the cash register. Probably another take-out order. Or one more reservation for the viewing party on Valentine’s Day. While Rick met the future Mrs. Allyn, and twenty-three other beautiful women, at a huge catered party at the Veterans of Foreign Wars hall, the town would gather at the diner to watch it unfold on live television.

Ernesto opened the swinging door and handed him the phone. He stared at it, then put it up to his ear. “Rick Allyn.”

“Do you always answer your phone so formally?”

He grinned at the familiar voice. “Lizzie.”

“You’re never going to call me Elizabeth, are you?” She sighed over the line, making his smile wider. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“If you’re here and available for dinner, my schedule is free.”

She chuckled. “I’ll take you up on dinner. The plane just landed, and my stomach is demanding real food. We need to go over some things before my crew arrives tomorrow.”

His skin warmed, and he held the phone tighter. “You’re really here? I won’t have to settle for talking on the phone and picturing you hanging on my every word on the other side of the country?”

“We can even sit side by side if you want.” She muttered to someone on her end of the phone, then sighed. “They didn’t save my convertible for me. Can you believe it?”

“It’s winter, Lizzie. Get the four-wheeldrive SUV with heated seats. Trust me.” He glanced through the cutout window into the diner, where people tried to catch a peek of him. “You won’t believe the changes in town since you were here last.”

They hung up with plans to meet at the diner once she had checked in at the hotel where she and some of the crew would stay.

* * *

TOKILLTIME, Rick buzzed throughhis apartment, making sure it looked presentable. He’d been raised to keep a tidy room, but it had never been easy for him. He liked his things out and around him. He knew Lizzie wouldn’t want to be surrounded by stacks of newspaper with sports stats. His baseball mitt sat on the kitchen table though it hadn’t been used in months. The comforter of his bed was dragging half on the floor.

A tapping on the apartment floor brought Rick’s attention back to the present. Ernesto’s signal that Lizzie had arrived at the diner. He double-checked the tiny space, then took the stairs to the kitchen two at a time. Ernesto motioned with his head to the dining room. Rick took a deep breath and pushed open the swinging door.

Lizzie wasn’t alone.

A man stood next to her with a large bag over one shoulder and a camera in the other hand. They didn’t hear Rick approach over their discussion about where to set the camera up for the first interview.

Cameras and interviews already? His stomach started to ache. “What happened to dinner with real food?”

Lizzie turned and smiled. “Talk first, eat later. We need to get these one-on-one discussions finished before the live premiere.”

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