Falling Fast Read online

  She wiped her eyes again with the back of her hands. “You must hate me. I knew you would.”

  Before Brandon could get his brain to start working again, before he could figure out what had just happened, Alexa ripped the platinum heart pendant from her neck, threw it to the ground and ran out of the studio. Brandon was still on one knee. He felt as if he’d been clubbed by a large hammer.

  Her words swam in his head as Joe helped him stand up, whispering in his ear. “Don’t forget our contract.”

  Brandon gaped at the producer, realizing that Joe actually expected him to propose to Brigit. Brandon looked helplessly at Brigit, all hope for the future gone.

  Brigit looked from Brandon to Jared to Joe and then back to Jared, who was smiling at her in a rather possessive way. Brigit smiled back at Brandon and nodded her head once, obviously having made up her mind about something.

  “Brandon,” she said, “you have to go after her! Right away! If you love her as much as she loves you, then what she did doesn’t matter.”

  Without a doubt, Brigit was right. Brandon wasn’t going to let Alexa get away just because she felt duty bound to cover a story for a magazine. Heck, he’d kiss her editor a thousand times once this was all over for pushing them together.

  Brandon gave Brigit a hug. “I owe you big for this,” he said, before running off the stage and through the doors, in hot pursuit of the woman he loved.

  Back in the studio, Brigit and Jared walked slowly towards each other and the studio audience got to see the kiss that they had been dying for.

  “Follow him!” Joe shouted to the cameramen.

  Outside the studio, one limo was already gone. Brandon leapt into the remaining limo.

  “I need to catch up with the other limo. And fast.”

  The driver sped off down the road with a loud squeal from the tires. Joe and the camera crew clamored into a cab, but Brandon couldn’t have cared less whether the cameras were filming him anymore. All he cared about was finding Alexa and convincing her that he loved her and wanted to marry her no matter what she had or hadn’t done.

  He caught sight of the limo at the bottom of the next hill. Alexa flew out and with a panicked glance behind her, she ran down the alley, her sequined skirts flying wildly behind her.

  “Pull over,” Brandon said and in seconds he was out on the street, chasing after her.

  “Alexa,” he called.

  Realizing that she had turned down a dead end, Alexa whipped her head around, like a caged animal desperate for a way to escape.

  “Leave me alone,” she said as he reached out for her. She slapped his hands off, but her skirts had gotten caught up in her legs, and she inadvertently fell into his arms.

  “I can’t leave you alone,” he said. “I love you. I will always love you. Please, give me another chance, sweetheart.” Brandon got down on one knee in his tuxedo. He didn’t notice he was kneeling in something sticky. He didn’t notice the cameras behind him catching every action, every word.

  “You may find this hard to believe, but I love you even more for going undercover to write this story.”

  “You do?” she asked, her voice slightly off pitch with a mixture of doubt and hope.

  “Oh yes, sweetheart. I love you for being you. And this,” he gestured to the alley, and the cameras, and the utter disarray of their clothes, “is what it’s like to love you. Messy, and crazy, and totally, completely worth every second.”

  Alexa sank down on her knees in front of him, her once perfect dress sloshing in the muddy puddle, and captured Brandon’s lips in a sensuous, ardent kiss.

  “I love you,” she said, but Brandon put his finger over her lips.

  “I know you do, honey, but you’ll just have to let me finish what I’ve come here to say.”

  Alexa’s eyes regained their usual shine and she graced him with a lopsided smile.

  “You’ve got my full attention.”

  “Good,” he said and leaned over for another kiss. “You’re not the only one who signed up for the show for all the wrong reasons. The day I met you in front of the chili-dog vendor-“

  “Yum,” Alexa said, running her tongue over her lips. “OK, OK,” she said laughing at his faux expression of exasperation. “I’ll stop teasing you. No more interruptions. I’m listening.”

  Brushing the hair away from her eyes, Brandon continued, saying, “I didn’t know what I was looking for in a wife. But now I do.”

  “You do?” Alexa said, her expression serious.

  “A woman with integrity. A woman who sticks by her ideals, no matter what. A woman who makes my heart leap out of my chest every time I see her. Every time I kiss her.” Pausing to softly rub his hand across her cheek, he said, “I was looking for you, sweetheart.”

  Stunned by his heartfelt words, Alexa lowered her eyes to the ground. “I never knew about love before you.” Brandon put a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to his. “I should have given up the story once I realized how much you meant to me. You always told me the truth, while I was the dishonest one. I was so afraid to admit everything to you. So afraid you’d hate me.” A lone tear fell down her cheek. Putting her palm on his rugged cheek, she said, “I love you so much, Brandon. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Wiping away her tear, Brandon said, “You can write a thousand articles about me for your magazine. But first, you have to answer one very important question.”

  “Anything,” Alexa said, the love in her eyes mirroring Brandon’s expression.

  “Will you go on a date with me? A date that has nothing to do with this show?”

  “Yes,” Alexa whispered against his lips, loving him even more for not asking her to marry him. Not yet, anyway. Not until they knew each other better. Not until they’d had a chance to date like normal people who weren’t being followed around by cameras twenty-four-seven.

  “Yes I will.”

  *

  FROM THE PAGES OF ROAR MAGAZINE

  When my editor asked me to write an expose of Falling For Mr. Right, to be perfectly honest, her request filled me with dread. Not because I was afraid to go undercover. Not because I didn’t think I was a good enough writer. And it wasn’t that I objected to having cameramen film my every move—although, to be honest, that was pretty awful and if I never see another camera again it will be too soon.

  No, my fear went far deeper than that.

  Imagine being forced to submit to endless rounds of waxing, nail-polishing, hair styling, makeup lessons and fashion advice? In my mind—and most of you would agree, I’m sure—hell had nothing on this assignment.

  I agreed to write this story to emphasize, to prove without a shadow of a doubt, how terrible it is when women are pressured into putting themselves up on the bidder’s block for a date. I planned to trash the show and everyone involved.

  But then I fell in love.

  The kind of love that makes your heart pound like a heavy metal drummer at the Grammies.

  The kind of love where you actually are singin’ and dancin’ in the rain.

  The kind of love that I had given up on long ago.

  Imagine my surprise, when July 1st rolled around and I ended up dating an incredible man who loves me for who I am. A man who would never expect me to be anyone but myself. A man who loves me just the same whether I am barely awake with killer morning breath or I am dressed to kill.

  Imagine my shock when I learned, during the two weeks I was on reality TV, that the problem wasn’t just skin deep, although lord knows I spent more time banishing pimples than I did writing my senior thesis in college.

  The problem was that I didn’t like how I looked on the inside. I was so afraid that people wouldn’t like me once they got to know the real me, that I hid myself away so that no one would ever see me.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’ll be a feminist until the day I die. But I hope it’s not too much to ask that you, my fellow feminists, try and cut me some slack. ‘Cause if you ask me, there’s a really big di
fference between starving oneself to look like a supermodel and wearing tasteful, flattering clothes and cosmetics.

  I’ll never be a beauty queen, that’s for sure.

  But, thank god, I’m finally happy in my own skin.

  I didn’t need an expensive moisturizer to get there.

  Just love.

  THE END

  More books by Lucy Kevin…

  SPARKS FLY (A fun romance about the “magic” of falling in love) Angelina Morgan is a beautiful consultant who practices an ancient art form called Feng Shui.

  Will Scott is an all-business CEO who doesn’t believe anything he can’t see and touch. With the help of a meddling ex-wife, a well-meaning best friend, and a matchmaking mother, Angelina and Will are about to find out what happens when opposites attract…and sparks fly.

  Please enjoy the following excerpt for SPARKS FLY © 2011 Lucy Kevin…

  “Wow,” Angelina Morgan said as she got out of her car in front of a huge mansion. “That is one seriously huge house.” She’d seen pictures of places like this in magazines, but had never actually been inside one.

  She’d planned two hours for this Feng Shui consultation.

  She’d need two weeks.

  Feeling much as she imagined Maria must have felt in the Sound of Music when she saw the Captain’s house for the first time – I need to have confidence, she thought – Angelina took a deep breath and headed up the long front path.

  She rang the doorbell and waited. Long enough that she rang it again.

  Finally, the door opened. Angelina was about to introduce herself….but the words dried up on her tongue.

  The man standing before her was, in a word, perfect. Dirty blond hair contrasted with blue eyes. Tanned skin highlighted bold cheekbones, a strong nose and gorgeous lips.

  “Are you Angelina Morgan?”

  Stunned by her unprofessional thoughts about her client, she barely managed a “Yes.”

  She hadn’t had a sexual thought about a man in months and was alarmed that her dead libido should perk up at such an inappropriate time.

  She was even more alarmed when her client said, “Will Scott,” then shook her hand, causing a frisson of heat to surge through her.

  Quickly pulling her hand back, she said, “I’m so sorry about being a few minutes late. I’ve rarely been to this neighborhood and I’m afraid I got a little lost. In any case, given that your house is larger than I anticipated, I want you to know that I’m happy to stay and work with you for as long as it takes.”

  “Actually, I’ve got some important work to take care of, so the quicker we can get this done, the better.”

  Angelina knew she should be accommodating. Not only was she late, but judging by the size of his mansion, he was probably counting every minute in her company as millions of dollars lost.

  Intending to start again with a clean slate, she conjured up her most genuine smile. “First of all, Mr. Scott—”

  “Call me Will.”

  Angelina gave a slight nod of her head in acquiescence. “OK, Will, I’d like to find out how much you know about Feng Shui. Particularly as this consultation was given to you as a gift from a friend.”

  “Not a friend exactly.” He paused slightly. “Susan is my ex-wife.”

  Angelina barely stopped herself from exclaiming, “How strange!” Clearing her throat, she said, “As I was saying, due to the fact that this Feng Shui consultation was given to you as a gift from your, uh, ex-wife…” She stopped to clear her throat again. “It’s important for me to know how much I’ll need to explain.”

  “Frankly, the only thing I’m worried about is the neighbors finding out I’m dabbling in magic and witchcraft.”

  Silently reminding herself that she had always been able to convert staunch disbelievers into the ancient art’s greatest proponents, she said, “Why don’t we discuss the ideas behind Feng Shui for a few minutes before we jump into the consultation? That way you will understand why it has absolutely nothing to do with magic or witches.”

  “Just as long as we’re done before my meeting.”

  Angelina felt a tension headache coming on. “Didn’t Susan make it clear to you that we need at least two hours?”

  “Two hours? I don’t have two hours.” Will’s cell phone rang and he lifted it up to look at the screen. “I need to take this call.”

  As he moved away from the door, a sudden breeze slammed it shut in her face, leaving Angelina standing alone on his front step.

  Utterly shocked by how things had played out, for the first time in her life, Angelina actually wished she did know some witchcraft.

  If this man thought she was going to wait around for him to get his act together, he was sorely mistaken. His ex-wife Susan—what a forgiving, calm person she must have been to deal with him for as long as she did—could have her money back. First thing Angelina was going to take care of when she got back to her office was getting rid of Mr. Scott as a client, once and for all.

  And good riddance.

  *

  Still more than a little irritated when she returned home, Angelina slammed her car door behind her, stalked up to the front door of the cute house she was renting, and jammed the key into the front door.

  Letting herself inside, she leaned against the back of the door and surveyed the clutter in her living room. She spent so much time helping other people deal with their messes that she rarely had time to deal with hers anymore.

  “I really need to clean my house up soon,” she muttered as she took in the stacks of magazines, books, and papers.

  Walking into her office, she picked up a fax that had come in while she was out and quickly noted the time and place of the photo shoot for her cover story in Professional Woman magazine.

  The irony of her situation was not lost on Angelina. Her job was helping others find balance in all areas of their lives, but since her business had taken off, her personal life had been knocked completely out of balance by her professional success. Case in point, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been out on a date and actually enjoyed herself.

  It figured, somehow, that the first man she was attracted to in years was not only an off-limits client, but arrogant and disrespectful as well.

  No. She wouldn’t dwell on her lackluster personal life. Not when she had important business to take care of.

  Flipping through her client book, she found Will’s ex-wife’s number, picked up the phone with firm purpose and dialed.

  “Susan. It’s Angelina Morgan.”

  Susan sounded thrilled to hear from her. “How was your consultation with Will?”

  Best just to be honest, Angelina thought. “I’m going to have to refund your money. I’m afraid he is not at all interested in having a Feng Shui consultation.”

  “How can you say that?” Susan’s tone was accusing.

  “He left me standing in his front yard to take a phone call. And he didn’t come back.”

  Not to mention the fact that he was insufferably rude.

  “Oh, I see,” was Susan’s quiet response.

  “I have a policy of not working with clients who need to be sold on Feng Shui, because it tends to do neither the client nor myself a whole lot of good. So really, I’m partially to blame. I never should have accepted your money in the first place.”

  “But you’ve got to help him. Somebody has got to help him.”

  Angelina sighed. Why couldn’t these things be easier? “Susan, I don’t think -”

  “Let me explain about Will. He’s my ex-husband, and now you probably understand some of the reasons why I divorced him. But he didn’t used to be that way. I mean, he always enjoyed working, but when I first met him he was fun too. Unfortunately, as his company grew bigger, he hardly ever came home and when he was around he was glued to the phone or computer.”

  Suddenly, Angelina felt like a marriage counselor. But Susan was on a roll, and Angelina didn’t have the heart to cut her off.

  “The last year
of our marriage was awful. I hardly saw him and I felt like I didn’t even know who he was anymore.” Susan paused and added in dark tones, “And he sure as hell had no idea who I was. So I filed for divorce and moved out. Then I read an article in the Chronicle about how you have a knack for fixing people’s love lives.”

  A warning bell went off in Angelina’s head. “Susan, that article was a bunch of hyperbole. I don’t actually fix my client’s love lives.”

  “Angelina, don’t be so modest! The woman they interviewed said how after she met with you and followed your advice, she met a wonderful man and now they’re engaged.”

  Angelina would have interrupted Susan to inject some reason into the conversation, but Susan was too excited for her to get a word in edgewise.

  “She said how one of her friends was going to get a divorce, but after you worked with her, she and her husband worked through their problems and stayed together. Don’t you remember the story? They called you the Feng Shui Cupid.”

  Angelina tried not to groan out loud. That article had been dogging her for weeks now.

  Evidently the entire lovelorn population of the bay area read the San Francisco Chronicle, because she’d received dozens of calls from people asking if they could meet with the Feng Shui Cupid.

  She hated that moniker. Her clients also got better jobs and felt healthier after working with her, but no one was calling her a Feng Shui Recruiter or a Feng Shui Doctor.

  “Susan, I agree with you, Will does need a lot of help, but I…”

  Susan heard her weakness and jumped in for the kill. “Please help him Angelina. You’re my last hope for reconciliation.”

  Angelina was caught between self-preservation and guilt. She had to hand it to Susan, there was nothing quite like making a stranger completely responsible for the fate of your love life.

  Against her better judgment Angelina said, “I can’t make the changes for him. It all depends on what he wants.”

  “So you’ll try again?”

  Angelina was dismayed by how easily she had been roped into taking Will on as a client.