Cursed by Love (29 page)

A
couple of “Not me’s” mingled with one “I am.”

“What’s
going on here?” she asked GI Joe.

He
nodded toward a monitor where the smiling face of Cincinnati’s answer to Oprah
filled the screen. “Watch and learn.”

Tess
Hartley let her lively theme song and the audience’s applause fade away before
she introduced the day’s episode. “Today on
Let’s Talk
, we’re going to
meet a group of caring teens who are concerned about their single parents.”

Concerned!
The word bounced around inside Annabel’s head like a loose basketball on a gym
floor. Why would Carly be concerned about her? Discomfort plummeted into
downright dread.

“Through
death, divorce, or abandonment,” Tess continued, “all of these high-school
seniors live in single-parent households. As they prepare to leave home for the
first time, they worry about their parents’ lonely futures. Isn’t that sweet?”

Tess’s
audience agreed with enthusiastic applause, but Annabel didn’t think
sweet
accurately described it. In the green room, the knowing nods of some parents
and the shocked expressions of others who’d been duped confirmed her
assessment.

“Please,
join me while they—” Tess paused and gestured for the studio audience to join
in the recitation of the show’s well-known tag line “—tell Tess about it.”

Justine
reappeared in the green room, buzzing along just as hyper and efficient as
before. But now, she looked more sheepish than capable. “In case you haven’t
figured it out, some of you are here under false pretenses. There’s nothing
illegal or unethical going on. The kids are really excited. But if any of you
prefer not to participate, you need to let me know now—before we get too far
into the taping.”

Well,
that gave them plenty of leeway. Annabel swallowed hard and found her voice.
“What exactly have they gotten us into? A televised ambush?”

“They’re
playing matchmaker,” the anorexic woman said, practically rubbing her hands
together in anticipation. “I can’t wait to see who I get fixed up with.”

“Matchmaker?”
Annabel picked up her purse, ready to head for the door.

“That’s
right,” Justine confirmed. “Last week, all of them interviewed potential
partners from a pool of prescreened, preapproved applicants. They each
handpicked someone for their single parent to go out with on one or two dates
arranged by and recorded for a future episode of
Let’s Talk
. Their
choices are here to meet you today.”

“What
kind of dates?” Annabel asked.

“Whatever
you and your arranged partner want. You’ll each get to name your perfect evening,
and the show will foot the bills—within reason. No flying to New York or Paris,
but anything local will be fine.”

“I
plan on going to The Precinct,” GI Joe chimed in. Although the steakhouse
wouldn’t be Annabel’s choice, a flurry of laughter and hoots of agreement
followed the mention of one of Cincinnati’s most expensive restaurants.

“You
can decide on your destinations later.” Justine’s gaze flicked to the clock on
the wall and then settled on the monitor. “But you’ll need to make up your
minds quickly about appearing.”

Out
in the studio, the camera panned the line of fledgling matchmakers. Just as
Annabel opened her mouth to refuse, the camera zeroed in on Carly and focused
on her blonde good looks. In that moment, Annabel forgot the trick the girl had
played and felt a thrill of pride at her stepdaughter’s composure. She glowed
as Carly spilled the beans about Annabel.

“She’s
my stepmom. My dad got custody of me when my biological mother left us. He
married Annabel when I was nine, and after he died three years ago, I stayed
with her. My birth mom is awesome in a fairy godmother kind of way, but she’s
not very good with, um, details.” A smile curled the corners of Carly’s mouth.
“Annabel’s the one who’s always tucked me in, taken me to the dentist, soccer
games and piano recitals. You know, all that Mom-and-responsibility stuff.”

“Does
she work outside the home?” Tess asked.

“Oh,
yeah, she’s a documentary editor for a local production company. A project she
worked on is nominated for some big award.” Carly paused before confiding,
“She’s so proud that I plan to go to medical school eventually, but except for
me, her work’s all she’s got. I’m afraid she’ll use it as an excuse not to get
a real life after I leave for college next fall.”

Not
true!
Annabel had lots
of other things and people in her life.
Didn’t she?
Hmmm, maybe not.

She
cringed as the little blabbermouth ratted her out to the entire tri-state area.
Maybe if she’d informed Carly about her plans for the future, this fiasco could
have been avoided.

Truthfully,
after all the responsibilities she’d handled over the years, Annabel yearned
for an exciting, carefree life of her own.

She
loved her stepdaughter and enjoyed her company, but Annabel looked forward to
the graduating teen’s departure with more anticipation than dread. As soon as
Carly left for Ohio State, Annabel planned to cut loose and make her own dreams
come true.

Some
of her plans involved work goals, sure, but they also included increasing her
social life. All right, make that
developing
a social life. With an
all-new, daring, and spontaneous attitude, she wanted to flit off to a weekend
in Belize… go skydiving… date guys with tattoos.

Since
she didn’t want Carly feeling as if Annabel itched to get rid of her, she
hadn’t mentioned any of her secret desires to her stepdaughter. But now Annabel
could see the advantages of opening up a bit more. She’d remedy that issue
immediately after today’s show.

Carly’s
sweet gesture revealed a misguided need to repay Annabel for her love, and Annabel
would never hurt the girl’s feelings by refusing the gesture. She considered
the possibility of easing herself into her new ready-for-anything persona with
two vetted, chaperoned, on-camera dates.
How bad could they be?

Smothering
a sense of impending doom, she summoned her courage long enough to sign the
release forms Justine handed to her. Within moments, she found herself taking a
deep breath and stepping center stage. Her eyes adjusted to the glaring lights
while she waited for her cue.

“Carly
took great care in choosing a man who shares common interests with her
stepmother. You’ll recognize him as WKLK’s most popular and handsome
investigative reporter. These two already know one another, but let’s see if
sparks fly when they’re paired up for romance.” Tess and the camera turned
toward Annabel. “
Let’s Talk
is pleased to welcome Annabel Morgan and her
lucky date, Max Williams!”

The
introduction barely registered in Annabel’s head before a tall, muscular form
bounded out from stage right. He turned her with a hand on her arm and planted
a kiss on her check.

Stunned,
she reared back to confirm her misfortune. The shock in his eyes mirrored hers.

Under
cover of the applause, they objected in unison, “Not you!”

The
following Saturday night, Max arrived on Annabel’s front porch in Hyde Park.
With his favorite cameraman in tow, he looked around at one of Cincinnati’s oldest
and stodgiest neighborhoods. Sturdy brick houses lined the quiet, residential
street. Subdued shutters bordered windows with overflowing flower boxes. Tidy
yards sported geometric mower grids. Traditional, conservative, established,
and settled. All things Max preferred to avoid.

Grinding
his teeth, he cursed his current circumstances and the unapologetic people
responsible for it. If given the chance, he’d banish meddlesome teenage girls
to a world without cell phones or teenage boys.

He’d
blast Tess Hartley to an unending life of flat hair, tabloid journalism, and
bad ratings.

He’d
send all judgmental, uninteresting women to an island far, far away, where they
could bore one another to death with their rules, restrictions, and lack of
original thoughts.

And
he’d reserve a special circle of hell composed of angry advertisers, prolonged
power outages, and drunken weathermen for Charley
Asherton
,
the usually-sensible station manager who had included Max’s name in a pool of
eligible bachelors for
Let’s Talk
without notifying him first.

How
he’d let Tess and Charley talk him into participating in such an asinine waste
of time, Max couldn’t explain. He’d thought it a joke when he received the
message to appear for the first-round interviews. But he hadn’t stood a chance
against the innocent wiles and harmless demeanor of the young girl who singled
him out. If he’d known she’d matched him up with Ms. Frostbite of Cincinnati,
he would have pulled a no-show for the actual program.

Tess
would pay for this. Due to their brief, steam-up-the-sheets, personal history
half-a-dozen years ago, he’d expected her to let him out of his arranged date.
When a conspiratorial smile and the promise of a future favor hadn’t worked, he
explained that Annabel didn’t want to go out with him any more than he wanted
to go out with her.

The
ratings-minded diva just laughed and insisted he keep his part of the bargain.
She’d even had the nerve to goad him over the fact that he’d finally met a
woman who didn’t worship at his feet. Tess had also suggested he look on
winning Annabel over as a challenge—one the show would pay for and record—as
the “relationship” unfolded. Relationship, hell. Disaster was more like it. And
Tess had licked her glossy lips over the possibility.

Ever
conscious of the camera, the reporter in Max erased the scowl and put on his
game face. He shot the sleeves of his suit into place, then smoothed his hair
and straightened his frigging tie.

“Quit
primping, Casanova, you look fine,” Roger said from behind him. He lifted the
video-camera to his eye. “Now, ring the bell. No, wait. The doorknocker seems
more forceful, more masculine. Use that.”

“More
masculine.” Max snorted but banged the knocker as instructed. “Masculinity’s
wasted on Annabel. Why do smart women like her favor those limp-wristed
sensitive types who drink lattes and go to poetry readings?”

“Why
do you care what kind of men she likes?”

“I
don’t. I’m just saying, she’s not my type.”

“Yeah,
I can see why the combination of smart, nice, gorgeous, and talented wouldn’t
work for you,” the cameraman muttered.

When
the door swung open, Max faced the beaming teenager who’d gotten him into this
mess.

“You’re
here!” Carly clapped her hands.

Despite
his annoyance, Max grinned at her enthusiasm. “Hey, kid. How’s it going?”

She
peered over his shoulder to the street, then leaned out the door to view the
driveway. His Jeep Cherokee elicited a frown. “Where’s the limo?”

With
the Porsche in the shop, he’d been tempted by the station’s offer of
transportation, but he hated that kind of fancy crap. Besides, he and Annabel
weren’t two pimply-faced, sweaty-palmed teenagers on the way to the prom. “I
prefer to drive myself.”

Carly
planted her hands on her hips. “But what about what Anna prefers?”

“When
we talked yesterday, I asked her if she wanted to show off with a car and
driver.” He shrugged. “She said she didn’t care.”

“Well,
if you put it that way, what else could she say?” She glared at him with
disapproval. “Besides,
I
care. I want this to be so special for her.”

“Maybe
next time, kid.” Of course, there would be no such event. The terms of the show
indicated he could dictate when and where they went on their second date, if he
wanted to see her again. In a rare moment of agreement, he and Annabel had
decided this would be a one-shot deal. She would have to be the one to break
the news to Little Ms. Blue Eyes here.

Carly
accepted the disappointment with a grudging sigh. “Come on in, then. Anna’s
almost ready.”

He
stepped across the threshold of the Morgan home, suppressing the urge to
sneeze. The place smelled like a damn flower shop. Fresh roses decorated a
table in the foyer. Potpourri sat in little dishes around the living room. They
probably even sprayed the air with floral perfume.