Читать книгу Win, Lose...Or Wed! - Melissa Mcclone - Страница 8

REMEMBER the game plan. All she had to do was run.

Easier said than done, Millie realized two blocks from the bus stop at the intersection of Chestnut and Fillmore Streets. Her feet pounded against the hard pavement as she tried to keep up with Jace, who ran twenty feet ahead of her.

He looked back at her. “Come on.”

“Right behind you.” Thank goodness the trendy Marina District was pancake flat with rows of well-kept houses, garages on the first floor, and utility cables strung from the wide, treeless streets to the rooflines. “Don’t worry about me.”

She could do the worrying for both of them.

Running on the track back at school was much easier than a cement sidewalk in the city, especially with garbage cans in the way, cars pulling out of driveways, a camera crew capturing every jarring step and her teammate, Jace Westfall, telling her to pick up the pace.

You can always stop if you think the race will be too much for you.

Millie inhaled sharply, the salty air filling her thirsty lungs. No doubt Jace’s words had provided a perfect sound bite for the show. Had he said them for her or for the cameras or both? Not that it mattered. She couldn’t stop. Not even if she wanted to. Her kids needed her to race. To win.

She pushed herself forward, focusing on Jace’s back. She’d had an uninterrupted view of his butt since they both leaped off the bus, and he’d been increasing his lead with his long, powerful stride and fluid motion. Of course, any living, breathing female could appreciate how well his warm-up pants fit in all the right places.

“Be careful,” he called over his shoulder. “Obstacle ahead.”

What was she doing? Cute butt or not, he was simply her teammate for the duration of the race. Thinking about him in any other way would only complicate matters.

Millie focused on a thirty-something blond woman pushing a high-tech stroller toward them. “I see them.”

As he maneuvered between the pair on the sidewalk and a garbage can at the curb, the woman with the baby smiled at him and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. Unbelievable. Even moms weren’t immune to Jace Westfall’s charms.

Millie lengthened her stride to pass the stroller and finally—finally!—caught up with him. Running next to Jace, or better yet ahead of him, would be preferable to staying behind him. The cameraman and audio guy ran alongside them. She didn’t know how they kept up with all that gear.

“You’re doing great, Freckles,” he said, sounding not the least bit winded.

“Thanks.” She snuck a peek at him. He looked totally unaffected by the running or the race or the camera focused on them. “Do you think it’s much further?”

“The bus driver said if we stayed on Fillmore Street we couldn’t miss the Marina Green.” He glanced her way. “Why don’t we stop for water?”

She pressed her lips together. Even though she’d love a sip of water, she did not need him to make allowances for her. No way would she be the weak link on their team. She was tough enough, smart enough and determined enough to handle anything Cash Around the Globe threw at her. Including Jace.

“I’m fine.” And Millie was. She just needed to remain focused. So what if her entire world had done a one-eighty and she felt as if she’d stepped into opposite town where no meant yes and full meant empty? She could—and would—do this. “We can get a drink once we find the clue.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I am.” A sound caught her attention. “I hear a foghorn.”

“We must be close. Give me your pack.”

She ran faster. “I’ve got it.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

As the sounds of traffic grew louder, Millie accelerated. But doing so wasn’t easy. She felt heavier, not from the forty pound weight strapped to her back, but from Jace’s obvious lack of confidence in her abilities. She would show him.

“There’s the flag,” he said.

Across a multilane street on a large expanse of green grass, a familiar looking flag furled in the breeze. They’d found it. Thank goodness.

“I see it.” Millie also saw two other racers, both wearing black, and her relief vanished. “There’s another team.”

Jace took a step off the curb. A yellow taxi zipped dangerously close. She grabbed at his backpack as he jumped back on the curb.

He didn’t notice. Frustration crossed his face. “So close, yet so far.”

“Close enough.” Millie released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Beating one team isn’t worth risking your life for.”

“Right,” he agreed. “No risking death unless we see two.”

Maybe she should have let him take his chances with the traffic. At least then he couldn’t come back at her and say she’d held him back. “Two teams?”

“Okay, Freckles. Make that three teams.”

The black team huddled over their clue. They ran to the parking lot bordering the water on the far side of the grass.

“We don’t know how many teams are ahead of us,” she said.

“Or behind us.”

Jace’s playful smile crinkled the corners of his eyes, softening the chiseled planes of his face. Tingles filled her stomach, the way they had during The Groom, but she knew the reaction had as much to do with his upbeat attitude as his grin. Millie felt herself being sucked into the depths of his steady gaze. And a part of her wanted to go.

Not good. Not good at all.

Millie looked into the rushing traffic to break the contact. She tapped her toe against the sidewalk eager for the light to change.

Distance. She needed distance. And a new teammate.

“Seriously,” Jace said. “All we have to do is catch up to the team ahead of us and we’ll be fine.”

“Team?” She squinted across the lanes of speeding traffic to search for the black team and any others who had found the clue box, but saw only men playing Ultimate Frisbee and a dog walker being pulled by five dogs. “Don’t you mean teams?”

“Think positive,” Jace encouraged. “Isn’t that what your father would say?”

Millie’s insides twisted. “Uh, sure.”

Her father might say those words to an audience at one of his sold-out seminars or to a reader of one of his eight bestselling self-help books, but Carl Kincaid would never say those words to his only child now that she was all grown up and a disappointment to him.

Instead her father would tell her to give up before she made a fool of herself again. He would tell her she was wasting her life teaching special needs students. He would list all the things keeping her from living up to her potential.

Millie took a deep breath. The only thing that mattered was how she saw things. Not her father. Not Jace.

Besides she’d already told herself to think positive. No big deal.

The traffic’s green light changed to yellow. Jace stepped off the curb. Millie held her breath as a florist van ran the red light.

The walk sign flashed.

He grabbed her elbow. “Go, go, go.”

Millie jerked her arm free and sprinted. She crossed the multilane boulevard ahead of Jace. All of her energy focused on the flag and the clue box beneath it. The scents of salt and freshly mowed grass replaced the smell of exhaust from the street behind her, but she heard the traffic pick up and allowed herself a moment’s relief. The light must have changed. Any teams behind them would be stuck. Good.

Fueled by adrenaline, she beat Jace to the clue box and grabbed a pouch. Unless, she realized with a start, he let her get there first. Her spirits sagged.

“Five left,” he said with satisfaction.

She tugged at the zipper to find forty dollars—a twenty, a ten and two fives—two maps, a credit card and clue. “What?”

“There are five pouches left. We’re in third place.”

Not last. Thank goodness.

In spite of all her training, all her pep talks to herself, Millie could hardly believe it. “Wow.”

“We’re doing great.”

She nodded. “For now.”

“Think positive,” he reminded her. “What does the card say?”

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s time to leave the beautiful City by the Bay so make sure you take all your belongings with you, including your heart. You will find a car parked nearby. Drive yourself to the airport (SFO) and fly to Los Angeles (LAX) where you will find a car waiting for you. To locate your next clue you’ll have to search among the Cherry Blossoms for the Irises and the Apples.”

“Nearby?” Jace spun around. “That could mean anything.”

“The black team went this way.”

Millie didn’t want to waste a single second. Clutching the clue pouch, she ran to the parking lot separating the Marina Green from the water. She found only random cars in every make and color imaginable.

He scanned the parking lot in the opposite direction. “That doesn’t mean they knew where they were going.”

“No.” His lack of faith annoyed her. “But they didn’t come back.”

In the distance, she saw a large building with an American flag and pennant flying overhead. Closer was another building, a small square at the edge of the water surrounded by a chain link fence. And then she saw the green and blue banner. Excited, she grabbed his arm. “There!”

She didn’t wait for him. She ran toward the flag and found six black Mercedes SUVs parked side by side.

“Good eyes, Freckles.”

Jace opened the driver door and grabbed keys from above the visor. He removed his backpack, opened the trunk and dropped his pack inside.

“I’ll take that.” Jace tossed Millie’s backpack into the trunk. “You’ve got the clue. You navigate. I’ll drive.”

Of course he would want to drive.

Wordlessly she climbed into the back seat. Her cameraman jumped into the passenger seat. The audio guy sat next to her. Jace’s crew had said goodbye to them at Coit Tower.

He started the engine. “You buckled up?”

Millie fastened her seat belt. “Yes.”

“Here we go.”

As he backed out of the parking spot, she unfolded one of the maps from the clue pouch. She located the San Francisco International airport. “There are two ways to get to the airport. They look about the same distance. The difference will be the traffic we hit.”

He drove past the building with the flags she’d noticed earlier. The St. Francis Yacht Club.

He turned on his blinker.

“Don’t you want directions?” she asked.

The light changed. He turned left. “I know the way.”

A familiar weight bore down on her. “Then why did you ask me to navigate?”

A thick bone-cutting silence descended on the car as she waited for an answer. Not that she expected one. No, Jace had only been tossing her a bone, a meaningless task to make her think she was part of this.

Too bad she hadn’t let him walk into the path of that yellow cab. Tight-lipped, Millie followed their direction on the map, using the task to occupy her eyes and her hands while she controlled her heart and her voice. She had to do something. And speaking her mind with the camera rolling wouldn’t do anything except make her look like a fool on national television.

Again.

The car screeched to a stop. None of the cars around them moved. Traffic looked gridlocked. Jace slapped the steering wheel. “There must be construction. Or an accident.”

Millie focused on the map. “Turn right.”

“Why? What do you see?”

“Right,” she insisted. “Here!”

At the last second, he turned the wheel.

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Left at the next light.”

She rattled off directions. A right. Another left. Straight. Jace’s jaw got increasingly tight, but he followed each direction until the car nosed onto Octavia Street.

“I know where we are,” he said suddenly. “This turns into US-101.”

Millie held up the map. “I know.”

“Great job.”

She refused to show the satisfaction his words gave her. “Only doing my part for the team.”

“Yeah, about that…” His words trailed off. “Look, Millie…”

A part of her wanted to avoid confrontation, the way she had during The Groom, but look where that had gotten her.

“Because that’s what we are. A team,” she emphasized the last word. “We’re supposed to work together. That’s the key to success according to the clue.”

He glanced in the rearview mirror. Checking for traffic? Or looking at the camera? “It’s just—”

“You want to win.”

“I need to win.”

“So do I, Jace.” She stared out the car window wondering how this was going to work or if it even could. “So do I.”

Sitting in the departure area at SFO, Jace counted the money leftover after buying sandwiches for lunch and an L.A. guidebook at one of the airport shops. Good thing the camera crew paid for their own food. The money provided with each clue didn’t last long. Too bad they hadn’t been allowed to bring their own credit cards with them.

Announcements followed one after another, barely audible over the din of the other passengers. A stream of business people, families and flight crews rode a moving walkway to one of the many gates in the busy Terminal 3.

“I don’t see any of the other teams,” Millie said, sitting next to him.

Jace heard the worry in her voice and put the money into the clue pouch. He felt the need to reassure Millie. So far she’d done everything right. Keeping up with him, finding the car and navigating their trip to the airport. Her abilities surprised him. He hadn’t expected her to be so decisive. So far she’d been the better teammate.

The realization made him angry. With himself.

“They’re here somewhere,” he said. “Don’t worry.”

He could do that himself.

This race meant everything, yet he wasn’t thinking fast enough. He’d made mistakes. Hell, that cab had nearly taken him out when he stepped off the curb. He wouldn’t be doing his part for the team if he wound up in some hospital emergency room. Time to get his act together before they got eliminated.

“But where?” she asked.

As Millie stood, Jace watched her. After they’d purchased tickets for the flight to LAX, she’d disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes and reappeared with her ponytail redone, her lips glossed and no windbreaker. Her T-shirt stretched across her chest. He couldn’t help but appreciate the view.

Lines creased her forehead. “The black team should be at this gate.”

“They might be getting lunch.”

Even with her weight loss, she didn’t look weak or soft. Not with her defined arm muscles and flat abs. He looked away, not wanting the camera to catch him ogling her. She was his teammate, not his plaything.

“Something’s wrong.” She sat, curling the edge of the clue card. “The flight boards in less than ten minutes. The black team should be here as well as whatever team was ahead of them. The next bank of LAX flights don’t leave until one o’clock.”

This was the woman he remembered, the quiet and cautious Millie who had won the hearts of the American television audience with her sweetness and innocence, but if she wasn’t careful she would psyche herself out of the race. He couldn’t afford to let that happen. At least not until he was on top of his game.

“Don’t worry about the other teams,” he said. “We’ve got our boarding passes. That’s all that matters. If they don’t make it to the gate on time, we’ll have almost an hour and a half lead on them.”

“Unless they are in the air.” She tapped her foot against the carpet. “A Frontier flight departed at 10:20 and a United flight took off at 10:56.”

He ran the times in his head. “No one could have gotten here that fast. The black team was only a few minutes ahead of us. Maybe they got stuck in the traffic jam or had car trouble.”

“Maybe.”

He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Probably.”

She looked down at their hands. Jace expected her to pull away from him, but she didn’t so he kept his hand on hers. The bustle, the noise, everything around them seemed to fade. Touching Millie felt so…good. He didn’t want to let go of her.

And then the camera guy moved.

She slipped her hand away.

Regret seeped through him. Not wanting to think about the strange emotions messing with his insides, he opened the guidebook.

“Any ideas where we should go?” Millie asked.

“Not yet.”

“Well, I don’t care if we have to ask every single passenger, we have to know where we are going before we land.”

He stared at her in amazement.

“What?” she asked.

“You look the same. Freckles, green eyes, hair pulled back in a ponytail—”

“Same boring Millie?”

“Not boring. But not the same, either,” he said. “You’ve changed.”

“I’m the same as I’ve always been.”

He shook his head. “There’s a different intensity. A competitiveness I’ve never seen before.”

“You just didn’t look hard enough.”

“Hey, I looked plenty.”

But maybe not hard enough.

Not that it mattered. Choosing Desiree had been the safest choice at the time. For all of them.

Jace reached for the clue card, and Millie let him have it. “Let’s figure this out so we can nap on the flight. Cherry blossoms, irises and apples.”

Millie pursed her full lips. The perfect pucker for kissing. Not that he cared. Or wanted to kiss her. Much.

“What do those three things have in common?” she asked.

“They’re plants.” Good. He needed a task to keep from thinking about Millie. He flipped to the guidebook’s index in the back. “Maybe they want us to go to a farm or nursery.”

“In Los Angeles?”

“Probably not. Flowers and fruit. What about the farmer’s market? That’s a big tourist attraction in L.A.”

Her eyes darkened. “Didn’t you go there on one of your dates with Desiree?”

“Not Desiree, Charlotte.”

He didn’t want to talk about it. Don’t look back. Hadn’t that meant Millie wanted to leave the past behind? Still a secret part of him was flattered she remembered. That she had cared enough to keep track of what he’d done.

“Oh, yeah.” Millie’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “I remember Charlotte.”

Jace knew exactly what Millie remembered. Charlotte was a stereotypical ditzy blonde from Kalamazoo, Michigan, who preferred kissing to conversation because she could barely string two sentences together.

“You sent her home after that date.”

“I did.” Jace recalled the blonde’s collagen-enhanced pout when he sent her packing. “I should have done it sooner.”

“We were all surprised,” Millie admitted. “She was beautiful.”

“You were all beautiful.”

But he’d had certain specifics he’d needed in a spouse. Charlotte had the looks, but not the brain. Desiree had the looks and brain, but not the heart. Only Millie…

Not going there. Think race. Think million dollars.

He read the travel guide. “The Farmer’s Market is on the corner of Third and Fairfax.”

“That’s a good one.” Millie reread the clue. “Do you know what we need?”

“What?”

She studied the gate area and pointed to an auburn-haired woman in her early twenties, working on a laptop. The attractive woman wore a long brown skirt with slouched boots and a turquoise blouse. Her modified bob haircut looked trendy, not dated. “Her.”

“Why her?”

“She typifies The Groom’s target audience,” Millie explained. “And chances are she’s connected to the Internet.”

Okay, they could use the Internet, but if the woman had watched the show, Jace didn’t want another viewer telling him how stupid his bride choice had been. That’s all he’d been hearing since the finale aired.

When Desiree broke up with him to pursue an acting career, the number of fans telling him via letter, e-mail and blogs he should have picked Millie increased. What people didn’t realize was he knew picking Desiree had been a mistake, but picking Millie would have been worse. “I don’t know, Freckles.”

“Trust me on this.” Anticipation filled her eyes, and he felt torn. “Please.”

“Sure.” He owed her this for her earlier efforts.

Millie’s smile lit up her face. “Come on.”

She approached the woman as if she walked up to strangers to beg a favor every day of her life. Jace’s respect inched upward.

“Excuse me,” she said, in a nonthreatening parent-teacher conference voice. “My name is Millie. You wouldn’t happen to have a wireless connection to the Internet, do you?”

The woman glanced up from her laptop. Her mouth gaped. She snapped it closed. “Millie! Jace. I don’t believe this. I never missed an episode of The Groom. It’s my favorite show.”

Yes. Target audience was dead-on. He owed Millie a hug. Scratch that, a drink.

“That’s great,” Millie said. “Isn’t that great, Jace?”

“Fantastic. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook the woman’s hand. “I’m Jace Westfall and this is Millie Kincaid.”

“Chelsea McKenna.” Her blue eyes twinkled. “I knew the thing with Desiree would never last. You two are meant to be together.”

At least Chelsea hadn’t called him an idiot. Jace forced a grin. “Well, we are together now.”

Millie glanced at him, a warning in her eyes. “We were wondering—”

“Hey, why are we being filmed?” Chelsea peered around them to point at the film crew.

“Millie and I are on another show together.”

“Wow. That’s so cool.” Chelsea brushed her fingers through her hair and smiled at the camera. “It’s like when Amber and Rob did The Amazing Race. Is that the show?”

“We aren’t allowed to tell you which show we’re on, even if you guess the right one,” Jace said.

“Oh, I understand.” Chelsea looked at both of them then back at the camera like a seasoned pro. “Web sites track spoilers for reality shows. I’m sure it would cause problems if everyone knows who won before the show airs.”

Millie nodded.

“Hey—” Chelsea glanced around “—how come there aren’t any other contestants around?”

“That’s the answer we all want to know,” Millie admitted.

“Don’t worry,” Chelsea said. “You guys work too well together not to finish first.”

Jace put his arm around Millie. He’d forgotten how she fit perfectly against him. “That’s what I think, too.”

She jabbed him with her elbow, but he didn’t let go. Instead he held her tighter, closer. Their “target viewer” was obviously willing to help them. As long as she thought they were a couple. “We were hoping to search for some information to figure out where we should go next.”

Chelsea’s purple painted fingernails flew across the keyboard with lightning speed. “What do you want to search for?”

Jace read from the clue card. “Cherry blossoms, irises, apples, Los Angeles.”

The woman typed the words in. “Okay, that was too easy.”

“What did you find?” Millie asked from under his arm.

“An entire page with links to the Los Angeles Art Center.” She hit the return key. “Those three are paintings in the museum.”

Warm satisfaction settled over Jace. Millie had come through again. He gave her a squeeze.

“Do you need directions?” Chelsea asked.

He kind of liked pretending to be a couple, but she kept pulling away from him. “We’d love directions.”

“If you don’t mind,” Millie added.

“Mind a handsome man asking for directions?” Chelsea pulled a sheet of paper and pen from her laptop case. “How did you get so lucky, Millie?”

She took a breath. “I have no idea.”

Was he the only one who heard the irony in her tone?

Chelsea wrote the directions. “Here you go.”

Millie clutched the paper as if it were the Holy Grail. He didn’t blame her. The directions could save them from being sent home. “Thank you so much for all your help.”

“Yes, thank you, Chelsea,” Jace said. “For everything.”

The woman pulled out another piece of paper. “Could I have your autographs?”

Jace reluctantly let go of Millie, jotted a quick note and put his signature beneath it. “That’s the least we can do, isn’t that right?”

“Sure.” Millie signed her name. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Chelsea’s high-voltage smile could power a city for the next three days. “So when’s the big date?”

He exchanged a confused glance with Millie. “You mean for the show’s premiere?”

“No,” Chelsea said. “I mean for your wedding.”