Game Changer (27 page)

He sniffed, interrupting her. Then he pulled himself up straighter and raised his head. When he met her gaze again, his eyes were rimmed in red. He set his hand on the bar counter again, palm up. She set her hand in it and he brought it to his lips. He kissed her palm, then placed it on his chest, over his heart. “You don't owe me any thanks, Harper. The honor was all mine.”

***

No doubt about it, Brandon was a friend zone failure. Officially.

He was still getting used to seeing Harper flat-chested, but she was more beautiful than ever, filled with a radiance that left him breathless. From the moment he'd picked her up at the airport, he couldn't stop staring at her. He couldn't stop touching her, either. That airport hug of hers had broken the dam and now he couldn't seem to stop.

He drove to the airstrip in a trance, numb to everything except the way Harper moved and the sound of her voice. Checking in with the receptionist, the training class before the jump, taking off in the plane—he remembered nothing. Nothing except Harper. How she'd nervously played with her hair during the training class and he'd wanted to run his fingers through it himself. How she'd held his hand as the plane taxied down the runway.

When she confessed that she was nervous, he put his arms around her and whispered words of encouragement, reminding her that she had nothing to fear.

“I know that,” she said over the roar of the plane's engines, turning in his arms to look at him. “I've got this second chance at life, I've got you as a best friend, and I've got the whole world in front of me. And I'm about to cross the second to last thing off my bliss list. That's pretty sweet. No fear, no holding back.”

No fear, no holding back.

He believed in that statement, except that the truth was, he was holding back. He'd been holding back with her since the moment she'd stepped into view at the airport. And he was afraid, too. Afraid of what he felt, afraid for what that meant for their future. He was so afraid he was going to ruin everything that there was no choice but to hold back. My God, how had he been so blind for so long?

As they lined up for the jump, she pinched his chin. “Hey, smile. We're about to jump out of a plane together and I believe there are rules against skydiving sad.”

He forced a smile. “I'm not sad.”

He watched her strap in with the jumpmaster she'd be riding tandem with and finished triple- checking his own equipment for his solo dive. He flipped on the GoPro camera he'd attached to his helmet, the better to capture Harper's big moment for all of posterity.

When the cabin door opened and they lined up for their respective jumps, she turned to him, a smile so big that Brandon had to remind himself how to breathe.

“This is incredible,” she called to him over the wind. “You were right.”

No. He'd been so wrong. So very, very wrong about so many things. “About what?”

“Seizing the day.” She leaned past the jumpmaster and kissed Brandon on the cheek.

And then she jumped.

He was in love with her. He was crazy, eternally in love with Harper Johnson. There would be no getting over her. There would be no other women, no other path in his life. There was only Harper.

He stood in the open door, stunned once again by the truth—as he had been in his apartment that morning—until the jump facilitator appeared by his side. “If you don't jump now, you're not going to be able to get a good shot of your friend with that GoPro.”

He soared after her, catching up gradually, but his only view was of Harper. He caught up enough to hear her whoops of joy and watch the way her hands spread in the wind, her fingers outstretched.

When he was level with her, she smiled him. His heart. God, his heart. He'd wasted so much time fighting it. What the hell was he going to do now? He had obligations to
Meet the Groom
. Contracts that forbid him from being romantically involved with anyone but the contestants until the finale aired in December, more than four months away. But how could he choose a fiancé on the show without dishonoring Harper and the way he felt about her?

Not only that, but he and Harper worked as friends. They'd tried dating and they'd tried sex, and they'd crashed and burned both times. They didn't work as a couple, and they both knew it. Why would he even consider rocking the boat now and risk losing her altogether if she didn't feel for him what he felt for her?

On the ground, the moment the jumpmaster detached his jumpsuit from Harper's, she ran to Brandon and launched herself at him, clearly in the throes of an adrenaline high, laughing the loudest he'd ever heard her. “That was epic!”

He rubbed her back and buried his nose in her hair, willing his heart to keep beating, his lungs to keep trying, despite the ache inside him. “You should have seen how big you were smiling while you fell. I should be checking your teeth for bugs right now.”

“I don't even care.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you for making that happen. That was the best birthday present ever.”

She turned away, laughing and skipping, her adrenaline spiking. He clutched his heart and nearly fell to his knees.

He was in love. He, Brandon, the biggest commitment-phobe of all time, a self-proclaimed bachelor for all eternity. He didn't want to settle down. He didn't want to be shackled to one place and one woman. Except that now, he could think of no better fate than to spend the rest of his life bound to Harper. His Harper.

He was a goner. How had he been so blind?

Brandon had been acting distant since the conversation they'd had that morning about Harper's mom, but he refused to tell her why or even acknowledge his discontent. He'd taken her to dinner at a pricey restaurant that overlooked Miami Beach, but he couldn't keep a conversation going. He asked her question after question, but often didn't seem to hear her answers. And when she asked him questions, especially about
Meet the Groom
, he changed the subject.

He held her hand as they watched the setting sun together from the window seats in the restaurant. She tried to take that for what it was. Two of the very best friends having a quiet, yet platonic moment. But, no matter how she tried to deny it to herself, she sensed the quicksand they were standing on as friends. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd be able to continue ignoring the way she felt about him, but she was going to give it her best effort until she left town the following day.

After dinner, Brandon was obliged by the
Meet the Groom
producers to make an appearance at a Miami club. They were picked up at his condo by Lucinda and a cameraman who didn't introduce himself. Lucinda seemed offended by Harper's presence.

“This is my personal assistant, Harper,” Brandon told her.

Lucinda gave Harper a once-over, and Harper immediately knew what Brandon had meant when he'd told her over the phone on many occasions that Lucinda had a stick up her ass.

“I've never heard you mention a personal assistant before,” Lucinda said.

Brandon flashed his most charming smile and said, “That's the personal part.”

Lucinda gave Brandon a long, analyzing glare, then her gaze shifted to Harper, then back to Brandon. “You do remember that you're under contract, right? There are a lot of people's jobs riding on you fulfilling your obligations to this show, not to mention the viewers you'll inspire.”

What a bitch, zeroing in on and manipulating Brandon's Achilles' heel—his overdeveloped sense of responsibility to inspire others with his life.

Brandon's smile fell. “Absolutely. I understand.”

Protectiveness surged inside Harper. How dare that bitch make Brandon feel guilty when he'd done nothing wrong. She stepped in front of him, her arms crossed over her chest. “Hey, Lucinda. Only one of us in this room is replaceable. Don't forget that.”

Lucinda looked from Brandon to Harper again, her expression gelling into a mask. “The car's waiting downstairs.”

In the car, the atmosphere was tense. Lucinda sat up front with the driver, while the cameraman, Brandon, and Harper rode in back. Brandon was quiet, his gaze distant as he stared out the side window.

Harper touched the back of his hand. “It's going to be a fun night.”

He shifted his eyes toward Lucinda as though to say, “Not with her around.”

“Seize the day,” Harper whispered.

He cracked a smile, then reached for his phone.
If we're going to have any fun, then we need to ditch Lucinda.

Leave it to me, as your assistant
, she texted back.

He chuckled at that and typed,
I could kiss you right now.

She stared at the message. Such a common phrase, a benign show of gratitude. She could kiss him right now, too. The possibility sent a tingle up the back of her neck.

She loved kissing Brandon. He was great at it. She could kiss him tonight and it wouldn't have to mean anything because they'd kissed tons of times, so it was nothing special. They were friends, end of story. Nothing would change that, not even kissing.

So why can't you look at him right now?

To prove she was being silly, she raised her face and couldn't stifle a gasp. In the shadows of the limousine, his expression blazed with dark hunger so intense, she reeled, flattening her back against the seat.

He wasn't looking at her as a friend would. He was looking at her like he wanted to violate the terms of his
Meet the Groom
contract. He was looking at her like they should push Lucinda out of the car and command the driver to take them back to Brandon's condo.
To his bed.

It couldn't be. Because he didn't want her like that. Once upon a time he had, but that had been during another life. When she'd had breasts. And he hadn't been under a strict contract not to date or have physical relationships outside the bounds of the show. A time when the two of them still believed that they'd burn the walls down around them with the ferocity of their lovemaking. Everything had changed. They knew better now.

She opened her mouth to speak, though she had no words, no thoughts.

“We're here. Brandon, snap out of it. Straighten your tie,” came Lucinda's grating voice.

Harper tore her gaze from Brandon and looked straight ahead. Lucinda was kneeling on the seat, glaring at them through the partition. Outside the car, people gathered, buzzing with anticipation of Brandon's arrival. Cameras flashed. Paparazzi and the media circus.

Brandon poured out of the car, all debonair coolness, then reached his hand back to help Harper from the car, but Lucinda jumped out from the front seat and stepped between them. “Don't. The press will think she's with you. The driver will drop us off around back at the service entrance. Whatever you do tonight, do not be photographed with her.”

Then Lucinda slipped into the back of the limo with Harper, shut the door, and sent Harper a withering look. “Nothing can interfere with his perception as America's favorite groom. All of our jobs at the studio depend on him.”

Brandon opened the door again. “Harper, don't listen to her. Let's go.”

Harper shook her head. “Too much paparazzi. I'll find you inside.” His brows knitted in confusion, so she tapped the corner of her lips and added, “Smile. They're watching you.”

Inside the club, it was Brandon who found Harper only moments after she emerged from the service entrance into the loud, stuffed club that smelled like spilled grenadine.

Brandon wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned close to her ear. “I didn't think this was going to be a big event. I'm so sorry. I had no idea.”

“It's okay. I don't mind.”

His frown intensified. “We're supposed to be celebrating your birthday today. This isn't supposed to be about me.”

She straightened his tie and smiled. “We're a team, Brandon. Solid. We had a great day together, so don't be so hard on yourself about this. I'm really proud of you.”

She kissed his cheek and found herself lingering there, her nose brushing the hair just above his ear, her lips pressed to his skin. His arm wrapped around her. His hand splayed over her back, locking her against him. His breath was ragged against her ear, his body tense as he nestled his face into her hair and neck.

An ache welled up in her, painful and despairing with a stupid, scary kind of longing she'd been trying so valiantly to ignore. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes with the pressure of the ache—with the despair of being madly in love with her best friend.

The DJ got on the microphone. “Help me welcome Lieutenant Brandon Theroux to the party! This soldier is an American hero, yo. And he's here partying with us for the rest of the night!”

The club patrons cheered. A spotlight found Brandon and shined down on him as though Heaven was calling him home.

Brandon relaxed his hold on Harper and faced the DJ booth, his arm still loosely curved around Harper's back.

“Hold up your glasses in a toast to American's next groom on
Meet the Groom.
Brandon, man, to thank you for coming out to Club Dante tonight, we have a surprise for you. Or make that
three
surprises.” A spotlight focused on the main door. The crowd was parted by a stream of production assistants and security workers. Then three gorgeous, leggy women sashayed in, the spotlight beam no match for their gleaming smiles.

“The brides,” Brandon said. “Oh my God.”

The brides.
Which meant Brandon was going to get engaged to one of those women next week.

“What the . . .” He prowled forward and snagged Lucinda's sleeve. “You didn't tell me they were going to be here.”

Lucinda looked him up and down. “They wanted to surprise you.”

“But I brought my
personal assistant
,” he ground out, adding weighty subtext to the last two words.

“She can wait in the kitchen with the rest of the staff. Now, smile. This is supposed to be fun and I think it will be if you let it.”

Dresdic strolled to a stop next to Lucinda and clapped his hands together. “This is some night. I love it. Brandon, let's get you up on stage to greet your finalists.”

Brandon turned and pinned Harper with a scowling look, his jaw tight. “Don't leave.”

Harper opened her mouth, but couldn't think of a damn thing to say as she watched Brandon get sucked into the crowd toward the DJ stage.

This wasn't supposed to be happening. She needed to seize the day and find her bliss. She was only going to live once and she wanted to do so with the verve of someone who'd cheated death. Wasting a night by standing on the sidelines and watching Brandon flirt and dance with three beauty queens, one of which he would be pledging himself to—however short-lived that turned out to be—didn't factor into her new plan.

Being in love with him didn't factor in, either. It couldn't. Because nothing was going to come of it. And as her anguish over that epiphany subsided, she was left feeling pissed that they were back to the same old dilemma of Harper wanting more and Brandon keeping himself at arms-length, even if, this time, his distance was mandated by a contract. Mostly, she was pissed that she was still hung up on an unobtainable guy. She didn't
fucking have time
for unrequited love. Life was too short.

The
Meet the Groom
finalists' arrival was Harper's cue to scram. But she refused to sulk at Brandon's condo alone while he whooped it up because that was no less a waste of her precious time. To the beach, then. Or a different club. Miami didn't sleep, so there were plenty of fun places for her to go, plenty of sights to see.

“Harper!” Brandon shouted as Lucinda and another production assistant prodded him toward the DJ booth where his prospective brides were standing.

Harper lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers in the most casual, carefree wave she could manage under duress.

She burst out of the doors and into the relatively cool night. She kept moving until quiet descended all around her and the music and shouts of the club were nothing more than muffled background noise, no louder than the engines of the cars that passed.

She walked the crowded street, a line of clubs on one side and the dark ocean on the other. She didn't want to go to a club where she'd feel old and ugly compared to the newly over-age darlings and models, or get grinded against by sweaty young men, so she pushed on, until a melody floated over the thick, salty ocean air. A piano. Loud. Along with voices singing.

She followed the music to a dueling piano bar and shoved a twenty and her driver's license at the bouncer collecting the entrance fee.

She slid into an empty seat at the bar between two couples that only had eyes for each other and didn't seem to notice the music. Good. She could sit and listen and nobody would bother her. The mood of the place was infectiously giddy. Perfect.

Her phone vibrated. She fished it out of her purse. A text from Brandon.
Where are you?

She didn't answer right away. She ordered a drink instead. A double rum and coke. Then she waited for it to arrive as her phone chirped an alert of Brandon's text every two minutes.

Only when she had her drink in hand and a few gulps gone, did she text him back.
At a different club. I'm okay, safe. Enjoy yourself.

His reply was almost instantaneous.
WHERE???

She didn't feel like texting him again. Tucking her phone in her purse, she focused on the old Elton John tune that the pianists were banging out. She joined along with the rest of the bar in the singing of it until the bartender passed again and she stopped to order a second round.

Maybe she'd buy a piano for Locks. Maybe she'd learn to play. Why not? She had the rest of her life ahead of her.

When the chorus came, loud and fast and triumphant, she clapped her hands in rhythm with the beat, sang a little louder, and closed her eyes, succumbing to the joyous crackle of energy in the room. It wasn't bliss, exactly, but it was close enough to count.

***

Harper didn't have a key to Brandon's condo, so she was relieved to find the door unlocked after the taxi had dropped her off sometime after one in the morning. The light was on in the kitchen. From the door, she had a clear view of Brandon leaning against the kitchen counter, still dressed in his dress shirt, slacks, and tie, though the shirt was rumpled and the tie had been loosened and yanked crooked.

“Have fun?” His voice was tight, his tone clipped.

“I did. You?” She forced a smile and a pleasant tone, but there was no masking the breathless quality of her words, not with the way her heart was threatening to burst out of her chest. She kicked off her heels and set them aside.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Where were you?” he growled.

“A dueling piano bar.”

Pushing off from the counter, he prowled her way.

Harper's feet planted on his carpet, growing roots. “Your finalists seemed sweet. They're all very pretty.”

“I don't want to talk about them right now.”

“Do you know who you're going to pick? It's Danielle, isn't it?”

“Stop talking, Harper.”

“She'd be good for you. Smart, classy.”

His hands seized hold of her cheeks and his face lowered, his lips aimed at her mouth, but she stopped his progress with a hand to his chest. Desperate self-preservation pulsed through her. She loved him too desperately to lose him over a night of temporary pleasure. “This is going to ruin our friendship.”