Rock Bottom. Cate Masters

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СКАЧАТЬ trees. Beyond, a rocky bluff, where ocean waves crashed and exploded upward like a geyser.

      “It’s incredible. Almost like a tree house.”

      He turned to her. “Exactly. That’s what I thought the first time I saw it.” He eased past her. “Sometimes I spot dolphins playing in the waves, or a whale in the distance. It’s really something.”

      “I can only imagine.” Delight filled her face.

      His gaze steadied on hers. Something in her look reached inside him, and unearthed a deep yearning in need of release. He could swear she felt it too.

      Abruptly, she turned away. Faced with the four-poster bed, she stammered, “Nice… fireplace.”

      The mantle sat beside the bed. She strode past the loveseat and coffee table near the balcony, then turned toward the alcove. “What’s down there?”

      “Bathroom.” He affected a bored tone.

      After taking a few shots, she strolled through. At the entrance, she halted and laughed breathlessly. “Are you kidding? This is amazing too.”

      One of his favorite rooms. Golden-red Mexican tile spanned the floor. To one side, a walk-in shower, bordered by a wide picture window. Weathered white stone climbed half the adjoining walls, topped by a botanical print wallpaper.

      To the left stood a double-sink vanity encrusted with seashells. She ran her fingers along their whorls and curves.

      He leaned on the doorjamb. “Pretty cool, huh? According to the realtor, the former owner collected those shells.”

      “Nice touch.”

      “Yes.” Nicer if he could give her a demonstration of the shower.

      She stood at her full height, eye level with him. “So this concludes the tour, I guess?”

      “It usually ends up here, yeah.”

      Her eyes glazed over. “Fascinating. But I should get back to my room and settle in. What time is it?”

      He shrugged. “Six thirty? Seven?”

      “No wonder I’m starving. Do any local places deliver here?”

      Wincing, he straightened. “Takeout? No, I’ll take you to dinner.”

      “No, I can’t let you.”

      “Come on, there’s a great sushi place not far from here. You need to re-energize and unwind.”

      After a beat, she agreed. “All right. But it’s on me.”

      “No.” He laid a hand on her arm.

      She grasped his shirt. “Yes. Strung Out will pay.”

      Shifting his hips, he eased closer. “Since you put it that way. It’s a date.”

      A fleeting look of horror crossed her face. Releasing him, she stepped back. “No. It’s an interview, or the magazine won’t cover it.”

      Pretending surrender, he clucked his tongue, but he was the one who’d won. “You drive a tough bargain.” He wished more women would challenge him once in a while. For now, he’d enjoy the company of Ms. Billie Prescott.

      * * * *

      Billie let herself relax when the hostess seated them in the noisy front room. Her fears of Jet’s public appearance causing a stir proved unfounded. At least three other major celebrities sat in the restaurant with a few minor stars forming a less impressive constellation. No one would bother them during dinner.

      Ordering the sushi, Jet recommended it to Billie, and appeared pleased when she followed his recommendation. The waiter returned with the bottle of wine and poured.

      Raising her glass, she toasted. “To Rock Bottom.”

      “Cheers.”

      Odd he didn’t echo her toast. Had season one stripped the luster from his quest to find love?

      “So what happened to the first set of contestants?”

      His smile appeared forced. “They went on to lead their lives, relatively unscathed by their short association with me.”

      He probably intended for his self-deprecating humor to deflect her questions. “I didn’t mean–”

      “Cindy could tell you their last known contact info if you need it.”

      Actually, she hadn’t thought of it, but not a bad idea. “Throughout the show, you put them through their paces, so to speak, and eliminate a girl every other week?”

      “That’s one way of putting it.”

      “The final contestant–what happened to her?”

      With a shrug, he sat back.

      The waiter delivered their food, refreshed their wine and left.

      Jet’s sudden coyness wouldn’t deter her. Still, she inflected a casual tone to make it seem like conversation rather than an interrogation. “She apparently isn’t your soul mate, but did you date for a while after the show ended?”

      Averting his gaze, his mouth turned down. “A while, yes.”

      “What happened?”

      “She moved on.” He clammed up tighter than the sushi roll he put between his lips.

      Nice lips, she noted. Not too full or too thin. Too bad so many other mouths had tasted them.

      Again, her train of thought had veered off track and she struggled to regain it. “To where?”

      “Another reality show. Tanya’s a serial contestant. If a new show’s proposed, Tanya will be in line ready to compete.”

      “So her interest centered on merely participating, and not in having a relationship with you?” At his noncommittal shrug, she probed further. “Don’t you screen the contestants ahead of time?”

      His chest swelled with a deep breath, and his nostrils flared. Oops. Must have touched a nerve.

      She sat back. Body language for I’m not here to cut you open, even though she hoped to do exactly that. Metaphorically. “Sorry, I’m trying to get a feel for the mechanics of the show.”

      With a quick glance, his blue eyes appeared laser sharp. “We altered it for this season.”

      Ah, progress. An in, however vague. Nodding, she sipped her wine. “How will this year differ from last?”

      “Throwing people together in a social setting doesn’t allow them to get to know each other. Not in important ways.”

      Maybe her brain still circled waiting to land, but she couldn’t follow. “So you didn’t get to know the contestants by dating them?”

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