Wicked Games
Page 41

I stood up. The world weaved and my stomach was so upset I knew I was going to throw up. I couldn’t stay on stage. I tore off my microphone and bolted. Like a chickenshit, I ran off, pushing through the mob of people to get backstage. Away from the lights that glared into my eyes and away from proof of what I’d done.
I’d cost Dean two million dollars. Any hope of ever speaking to him again had just gone out the window.
Shuffling into a back hallway, I ignored the production assistants that swarmed the back stage and leaned against the cool brick of the studio wall. People rushed past me with microphones and cameras, cords running all over the place. But now that I was off stage, I could finally breathe.
To make matters worse, I began to cry. Tears brimmed over my eyes and began to pour down my face, and I swiped at them repeatedly. This was stupid. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I was not going to feel humiliated and lonely and like I’d made the biggest mistake of my life because I’d listened to others. I was not going to cry.
And yet I couldn’t stop the hiccupped sob that broke from my throat. Hugging my arms close to my chest, I huddled against the wall, miserable and trying to keep the tears under control. Maybe they wouldn’t notice I was gone. Maybe they’d cut to a commercial break and give me a chance to recover so I wouldn’t go out there with red eyes and hiccups. Maybe—A warm hand touched my arm, brushing across the bare skin. “Hey, hey… don’t cry.”
To my horror, it was Dean. I stared up in surprise, brushing my hand across my cheeks again. He was even more devastatingly handsome up close, his eyes clear and bright, his skin with just a hint of tan, and that amazing sculpted jaw that never left my dreams. I longed to lean over and kiss him. Instead, that just made me cry harder.
He pulled me against him, cradling me against his chest. Warm arms wrapped around me and his hand stroked my hair as I wept. At that, I cried even harder. Dean holding me felt so good. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him in the last few months, and how betrayed I’d felt when I thought he was using me.
Except he hadn’t been. That just made me cry even more.
“Hey,” he said in a low whisper, stroking my curls. “Don’t cry, Abby.” He gave me a little pat on the back and teased, “I should be the one crying. I lost two million dollars just now.”
I choked on my tears and looked up at him in surprise. “That’s not funny!”
Dean grinned down at me, his fingers brushing my wet cheeks. “Got you to stop crying, didn’t it?”
My face crumpled a little at his sexy, playful smile. “You probably hate me now. I said some really horrible things.”
“You did say some horrible things,” he agreed. When I glanced down again, he put his finger under my chin and lifted my face so I was looking at him again. “But you didn’t know what was going on.”
Some of the awful tension in my shoulders eased, and my tears were drying up at his calm, soothing voice. I didn’t move out of his arms, however; I liked being there far too much. “What do you mean?” I said in a wobbly voice.
Dean’s smile turned sheepish. “I have to admit that I didn’t exactly tell the others what was going on between us. It seemed a little personal and then you got voted off and I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. But I couldn’t let them see that or they’d vote me off too.”
“I remember…” I said softly. I’d seen it all on TV.
“After you left, I didn’t understand why you were so upset at me. Heather pulled me aside and tried to shame me for sleeping with you to get your vote. That’s when I started to figure out what they were telling you. I didn’t realize that all of them had been filling your head with all these stories about me and how I was just using you to get ahead. I talked to everyone and they all told me the same thing—they thought I’d been sleeping with you to get your vote, and they were shocked when I told them I thought what we had was the real thing.”
I blushed at that.
“And then they mentioned you were a studio plant and you were working on a TV special and a novel about the behind the scenes gossip…” He let his voice trail off, letting me fill in the rest.
“It’s true,” I admitted. “I worked for MediaWeek and that was how I got on the show. I never applied. I didn’t want to be on the show until my boss made me. But when I got home, I didn’t… I couldn’t…” I gave a small shrug. “I couldn’t talk about what happened on the island. It was kind of… for me. You know?”
“You should have said something,” Dean told me.
“You should have told me you were an Olympic swimmer,” I retorted.
“I should have told you a lot of things,” he admitted, pulling me close again. His head moved in closer to mine and I could see the blue of his eyes. “I should have told you that what we had wasn’t some sort of ploy on the island to get ahead, and that I really liked you. And that I wanted to spend more time with you when we got home. But when you left, I didn’t have any way to get hold of you.”
This wasn’t going how I had anticipated. I thought he’d be furious at me. Never want to see me again. And here he was confessing that he’d made a mistake? Dean Woodall? The cockiest man on the island?
“Abby?”
“What?” I said weakly.
“Do you… still want to give this another shot?” His mouth curled in the self-deprecating half smile I adored. “I’d love to spend time with you outside of the game, on a real date.”
“But… the two million?” I couldn’t get past that. “I just… I cost you a fortune, Dean. How can you ever forgive me?”
He laughed at that. “Abby, I have multiple endorsement deals. I don’t need the show’s money. I have plenty of my own.” Dean brushed his fingers over my cheek as if he couldn’t help himself and he had to touch me. His voice dropped a little. “Is that the only reason you won’t date me?”
I reached up and placed my hands on the sides of his head, pulling his mouth down to mine. After a moment’s hesitation, his hands grasped me tight against him and his mouth began to devour mine. Like that, all the months of uncertainty melted away, and there was nothing but the teasing lick of Dean’s tongue against mine.
A deafening roar swelled around us.
We broke apart, and I stared up into the microphone hanging over our heads. The cameraman grinned at us from behind his equipment. Our happy little reunion had been filmed and we were on national TV. Figured.
Chip emerged from the crowd that had gathered, beaming at the two of us, still wrapped up in each other’s arms. “Looks like you two had a happy ending,” he sang out. “All’s well that ends well, and it looks like everyone here tonight is a winner.”
The crowd cheered. We could hear the roar, even backstage.
“Commercial break,” an assistant yelled, and Chip immediately lost interest and wandered away. The cameramen departed and the gaffe swung the microphone away from us. To my surprise, the crowd departed, leaving only a smiling Jim Matlock behind.
He approached us with his hands wide open. “Before you two go back on stage and finish the finale, I just wanted to say thank you for making some entertaining TV this season.” Jim beamed at both of us. “You made this season worth watching, and the ratings prove it.”