Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1) Read online

  “A fish out of water comedy… Readers who like Jennifer Crusie will probably enjoy this.”

  —Library Journal on Be Careful What You Wish For

  “Jane Lynne’s stories are down-to-earth with a touch of whimsy and always entertaining.”

  —Jami Davenport, Award-winning Author of Down by Contact and Forward Passes.

  “This novel dazzles.”

  —Long and Short Romance Reviews on Be Careful What You Kiss For

  UNREAL

  Saying Charley Stephens has had bad luck with men would be an understatement, but as a new contestant on “Make Me a Match,” things are looking up. The reality show has personality experts and a special computer matching program, so Mr. Right must be waiting on sound stage number six. Except, if there were a script it’d be out the window. Standing in front of her is Luke Dean, the very man who broke her heart.

  Doing the wrong thing for the right reason cost producer Luke Dean the love of his life. Now, here she is again, a contestant on his new TV show. Yet, three couples competing for big prize money, trying to best each other at challenges ranging from an L.A. treasure hunt to sidewalk singing…nothing could be as dramatic as the choice in front of him. He must decide to keep his distance from Charley or go for broke—literally. If he jeopardizes the show, he’ll lose his career. If he wins her love, it’ll be even better than a Hollywood happy ending.

  KISS AND CONFESS

  A Love Unscripted Romance

  JANE LYNNE DANIELS

  www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

  KISS AND CONFESS

  Copyright © 2016 Dawn Gothro

  All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

  ISBN 978-1-944262-27-3

  Ebook formatting by Maureen Cutajar

  www.gopublished.com

  For all the dogs and cats in rescue shelters waiting for forever homes. Your new families will be coming for you soon.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Heartfelt thanks to my wonderful, wise editor, Michelle Klayman, who keeps this angsty writer on track, on deadline, and remembering to have fun with the story.

  CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About the Author

  Also by Jane Lynne Daniels

  KISS AND CONFESS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Luke had a tidal wave rolling through his stomach, an elephant kicking his rib cage, and a cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. All because that woman was about to come barreling back into his life. And she didn’t even know it.

  Yet.

  She would in a few minutes.

  Luke stepped out of his car and slipped on his jacket, surveying the airport parking lot. He began walking, each step taking him closer to what he anticipated and dreaded at the same time.

  He could have sent an intern to pick her up; should have sent an intern. But instead, fool that he was, he was here, tempting fate. While he might not remember a hell of a lot about most of the women he’d dated, he remembered everything about Charley, especially what he’d done to her.

  He took the elevator to baggage claim where the doors swept open before him. He meant to walk through, but instead came to a dead stop, and began pacing back and forth.

  Fine, so he’d left her. Broken her heart. Been an asshole. Is that enough for you, buddy, or should I keep going?

  Too bad he didn’t smoke. Would have given him a reason for pacing. Would have kept that cop from narrowing his eyes as he passed Luke. The cop doubled back and watched. Damn. Luke needed an industrial-strength bucket of Tums. After a long moment of assessment, the cop turned away.

  All right, this was it. Showtime. Luke had been around enough actors; he could pull this off. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let her see what was going on inside him or he’d never make it through this day, let alone the next six weeks.

  He drew his shoulders up, jammed his sunglasses on his head, and walked through the baggage claim doors.

  A quick check of the arrival monitor told him Charley’s plane had landed. The tidal wave in his stomach threatened to surge into his throat. Not gonna happen. When she saw him again, he’d have all his broken pieces taped back together, appearing as cool and together as anyone possibly could who’d become successful in a city that ate its young and belched in satisfaction.

  His gaze swept to the right to find the number of the carousel assigned to deliver her bags. She’d been told to expect someone with a sign, so he drew a white card from his jacket. In big black letters, Stephens had been handwritten. He held the sign against the front of his chest and checked that the cop was still nearby in case Charley had taken up martial arts since he’d last seen her.

  Charley’s nervous energy shimmied from her escalating heartbeat to her pedicured toes. Los Angeles. She couldn’t believe she was actually here. Chosen to be a contestant on a show that promised to find her perfect match.

  She’d already done a pretty great job of finding the imperfect and even disastrous matches. Things could only go up from here.

  People rushed by moving to and from the gates as she followed the signs to baggage claim. An airline employee steering a wheelchair nearly clipped her foot and then glared at Charley as if it were her fault. She gave him an apologetic smile, her Disney princess mood firmly in place. If she’d had a wand, she would have smacked him with sparkles.

  She stepped off the escalator, unsure which way to turn. Everyone else seemed to know, so she joined a pack moving at a steady speed. She spotted a monitor on a wall and on her way to it, stopped to take in the sunshine and blue skies streaming through glass doors. People from Seattle didn’t take that kind of weather lightly, particularly in April.

  The monitor displayed her flight and its assigned carousel. She checked the numbers and headed toward her carousel, which had already begun its slow turn. After only a couple of minutes, she saw her pink bag bumping and thumping its way from the conveyer belt to the metal slats to begin its circular journey.

  “Excuse me,” she said as she made her way through other impatient travelers. “Sorry. Just have to get my bag. Thank you.” She thrust her arm out and pulled the bag off with an unintended oof. She set it on the floor and flexed her fingers. As usual, she’d over packed to accommodate for changing weather and all other possible scenarios. Charley was nothing if not a planner.

  She was busy trying to coax the bag’s handle to cooperate when she heard a quiet “Hi, Charley” close to her ear. Surprised, she looked up and locked eyes with a tall, lean man.
The man whose face was etched in her heart’s memory.

  “Luke,” she breathed. She’d have recognized him anywhere.

  He held her gaze and nodded. “Been a long time.”

  Charley took a shaky step back. His voice still had the huskiness that caused goose bumps to tango up her arms while the rest of her body readied itself for another kind of tango. And, wow. His eyes still held the same burning intensity that stole her breath.

  “Oh my God.”

  Her stomach clenched tight and her knees sagged at the sight of his adorably crooked nose and the dark curly hair he still hadn’t bothered to tame. She hadn’t thought she’d see him again. And now that he stood before her, she could barely think, let alone talk. “How—how are you?” she managed.

  “Good. And you?”

  He was calm. She was stuck in a spin cycle of emotion and he was calm. She shook her head and dizziness overtook her. She clutched at her bag for support. Luke. Here. He caught her arm, holding her steady.

  “I’m good too,” she lied.

  He held up a sign with Stephens printed on it in black letters. “I’m your driver.”

  “You’re kidding.” Her Disney princess mood hoisted its skirt and ran for the door, woodland creatures and flower petals scattering.

  He lowered the sign. “Not kidding. I’m a producer on Make Me a Match.”

  This. Was. Insane.

  The last time she’d seen him, she hadn’t known it would be the last time. He’d left college without saying a word then didn’t answer his phone. One of his fraternity brothers had shown her his empty room and told her to let Luke be.

  So she’d let him be. And flooded her broken heart with more tears than she’d known one person could produce. Every relationship she’d had after him was colored by his betrayal. She hated him.

  She loved him.

  “My car is outside.” He reached for her bag. “I’ll take you to the house where you’re staying. It’s nice. You’ll like it.”

  When he’d bolted twelve years ago, he’d taken her virginity, her trust, and her deepest secrets. And now all he could say was that he thought she’d like her accommodations?

  She wanted to kill him. Might, too, if that cop would stop looking at her funny.

  With a nod for her to follow him, Luke began walking toward the glass doors, her pink suitcase rolling obediently behind him.

  She hesitated for a few seconds and then stutter-stepped to catch up. A TV producer. When she’d known him, he’d wanted to be an attorney.

  He glanced over one shoulder and adjusted his pace, slowing so she could keep up without tripping over her heels. “Sorry,” he said. “Everybody walks fast here. You get used to it.” His voice was steady, polite.

  Charley held on to the straps of her purse until her whitened knuckles protested and she had to let them relax. Ow.

  A butter knife jabbed at her heart—dull, relentless. It shouldn’t be like this. The first time she saw him again, he should have been on his knees, begging her forgiveness for his temporary insanity. Or telling her he’d been kidnapped by a cult that banned any form of communication. Or explaining that he’d been diagnosed with a terminal illness, and could think only of saving her from the agony of his death.

  Clearly he’d been cured.

  She slid a look at him from beneath her lashes. Health radiated from every pore of his tanned skin. Asshole.

  Then she saw a brief flash on his shirt. A sticker announcing its size in a clear vertical row of tape. A part of her wondered if he’d worn a new shirt because of her. The part that kept getting hurt because it wondered things like that.

  “You—”

  Luke looked at her, a question in his eyes. He stopped walking.

  So did she. She opened her mouth, hesitated.

  He opened his mouth, hesitated.

  And then a passenger in a hurry knocked into Luke, pushing him into Charley.

  At the feel of his body against hers, Charley’s breath quickened, her heart thundering in her ears. No. She wasn’t going there again. Not ever. She put her hands on his chest and shoved him away. Hard.

  He stumbled but regained his balance. His eyes widened. “I’m sorry.”

  “No. I’m sorry.” She looked at the floor, at her sandals, and her sparkling pink toenail polish.

  “We shouldn’t be standing in the middle of everything.” Luke stepped forward and she followed. The doors opened with a whoosh, bringing them into sunlight dimmed by overhead ramps. “You wait here,” he said. “I’ll get my car and pick you up.”

  She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stared at the pavement and a once-blue wad of gum that had been smashed beneath someone’s foot. Next to it, an orange priority luggage tag, stained with shoeprints. They were leave-behinds, no longer needed or wanted.

  Sort of like her. Twelve years ago.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, doing her best to tune out the surrounding commotion of tires, whistles, and conversation. The excitement she’d felt at landing in L.A. seemed forever ago. Yet she had to get it back. The reason she had come hadn’t changed. A perfect match in love and life waited for her, and she’d be damned if anyone compromised her future.

  Luke was a part of her past. Once the show was over, she’d never have to see him again. Actually, since she didn’t know what a producer did, maybe she didn’t even have to see him during the show.

  She could do this. She tightened her muscles and lifted her chin. By the end of the show, he might wish he’d had that terminal illness after all.

  The polite tap of a horn caught her attention. Charley’s gaze flew to the line of cars and saw a shiny, expensive-looking black sporty thing pulled to the curb. The passenger window slid down and Luke leaned over. “Ready?”

  Hell no. Not at all.

  “Of course.” Charley walked over to the car and reached out to pull on the passenger door handle, but Luke got there first. She dipped her head and slid onto the leather passenger seat. She drew her denim-clad knees together, placed her purse on her lap, and stared straight ahead.

  He opened the driver’s door and climbed in. “Seatbelt?”

  “Oh.” She fumbled behind her shoulder to locate it then locked it into place. The car glided away from the curb.

  They drove in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine. At last, he cleared his throat and said, “I owe you an apology.” He didn’t look at her.

  “For what? It’s been nine, ten years since we’ve seen each other.” Twelve. And two months.

  “Twelve.” He glanced over just long enough for her to see regret flash in his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before I left school.”

  “Or after.”

  “Or after,” he repeated, keeping his eyes on the road.

  “Doesn’t matter now,” she replied, looking out the window. “I got over it. Moved on.”

  “I’m still sorry.” His voice was low, quiet. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  “Neither did you.” Her eyelids felt hot. She looked down at her purse. “You missed out.”

  Another moment passed before he answered. “I know.” He pressed his forearm to his stomach.

  “You okay?” Terminal illness, maybe?

  “Fine.”

  More silence for several minutes before he asked, “You’re not married?”

  “I didn’t think contestants could be,” she said innocently. Inside her, a tiny fist pumped.

  He looked over with a rueful smile. “Right. Dumb question.”

  “Are you? Married, I mean?” Not that it mattered exactly, but she wanted him to say no. It would be great if he added he’d never been able to get over her enough to marry someone else.

  “No.” Instead of elaborating, he changed the subject. “So you decided to be a contestant on reality TV. That takes courage.”

  “You decided to be a producer on reality TV. That takes…” She pondered the right word, finally coming up with. “…balls.”

  A short laugh. “T
hat and a need for a paycheck.”

  Charley looked around the car. “You seem to be doing okay.”

  “TV has its rewards.”

  He shot her a grin and right on cue, she felt herself melt. Not going to let him do that.

  “Did you know I was going to be a contestant?” Her tone carried enough bite that it could have left a mark. Better.

  “I didn’t choose the contestants. We hired experts to do that.”

  “Not what I asked.” The teeth marks in her voice could have sunk into his arm. “Did you know before today?”

  “A couple of days ago.”

  He’d known. And she hadn’t. Déjà vu. She stared out the window. “Is it a conflict of interest that we knew each other—before?”

  “No.” The engine’s low hum again filled a silence in the car.

  After a few minutes, as though this was any normal conversation, as though she was any normal person, he said, “This should be a good show. People will watch.”

  Charley turned away from gazing out the window to study him. A vein jumped in his neck. Uh-huh. He wasn’t feeling nearly as casual as he was trying to make it seem. Unbidden, a memory flashed: She and Luke in his room with the door locked, making love with a passion that had left them both breathless. Tears threatened at the depth of what she’d felt for him. This is bullshit.

  “Why?” she demanded. “Why will they watch?”

  He moved his hands from the ten-and-two position to the bottom of the steering wheel and then slid them back up. “They’ll watch because they’re frustrated, losing hope they’ll find the person they think they’re supposed to be with. They want to believe science can do a better job.” He checked his rearview then his side mirrors. “Or that’s what the research says.”

  “Do you agree?”

  He zoomed out of his lane and into another, barely missing a car, answering her only after he’d signaled to take an exit. “Officially speaking, yes.”

  That jaded edge hadn’t been in his voice when she’d known him, nor had he been wound so tight. “And unofficially?”