Romancing Miss Right by Lizzie Shane Page A

fighting chance.”
    If his mediocre efforts could derail them,
they didn’t deserve her, but before he could say as much, Marcy
swept out of the card room, in search of comfort from some other
Suitor.
    Craig threw the cards and cursed vehemently.
Let them bleep it out.
    #
    Marcy moved quickly through the mansion,
needing distance not just from Craig but from all the Suitors, from
the show itself. She was so sick of this. Sick of always being on
display. Sick of having every second of every day planned out for
her. Sick of the illusion that she was in control of the situation
when really she was just a plaything, America’s toy, a doll
supposed to love and laugh and cry on cue.
    She tried to block out the sound of the
camera crew behind her. They rushed to keep up as she lifted up her
train and half-jogged in the excruciating high heels into the
courtyard garden. If she never saw another camera crew again her
life, she could die happy. And as for the Suitors, never would be
too soon—
    Daniel stepped out of a break in the sculpted
bushes. “Marcy, I’ve been hoping to catch you alone. I have a
surprise for you.”
    Her hand went automatically to her face and
she only realized after she brushed her cheeks that she was
checking for tears of frustration. But her cheeks were dry. And
Daniel didn’t even seem to notice she was upset. Perhaps she really
was an ice queen, keeping all of her emotions bottled up behind
Midwestern reserve.
    “Daniel, I’m really not in the mood.” Her
voice surprised her with how calm and collected it sounded—further
evidence that she couldn’t show her emotions, no matter how
violently she felt them.
    “Let me put you in the mood,” he said. “I’ve
been wanting to do something special for you.”
    She wanted to argue. To scream that none of
them ever listened to her—except Craig, which she didn’t even want
to consider. She sighed and extended her hand, letting Daniel lead
her to whatever surprise he’d cooked up for her since it would be a
battle she didn’t want to have to resist him.
    Daniel guided her through the courtyard
gardens, back into the mansion, along the west wing—where she’d had
her room when she’d been one of the Suitorettes—and onto the pool
deck. Several of the Suitors were gathered there, looking
incongruous in their suits on the lounge chairs, but Daniel didn’t
pause, taking her around the pool to the edge of the lawn. He then
turned to her and swept her up into his arms—which had none of the
impact of the first time he’d done it—and carried her over the
grass until they were back at the gazebo. Only this time, in
addition to the fairy lights, it was stuffed to the rafters with
roses.
    The smell of them hit her first, cloying and
sweet, and she almost sneezed.
    Some devil inside her—influenced by Craig, no
doubt—urged her to tell him that she was more of a daisy kind of
girl, loving the happy little faces of the flowers, and that she
actually preferred carnations, with their carefree petals, to
rosebuds. But he hadn’t asked. So she didn’t volunteer.
    Then she noticed the cameras. They were
stationary—like the ones that were set up for some of the longer
dinners and events where they didn’t need cameramen chasing them
with steadicams. The kind of cameras that were operated by a
producer by remote, so the cameraman wasn’t even present, giving
them an illusion of privacy they didn’t really have, but at the
moment, Marcy was grateful for even that much space.
    “Thank you,” she said to Daniel, glad to have
found a way to mean it. “This is lovely.”
    He set her on her feet and took her arm to
help her up the steps into Flower World. It was surprisingly dark,
the flowers blocking out most of the moonlight and making the fairy
lights seem dimmer. Marcy wondered if the stationary cameras would
be using night vision, if her face would be green and her eyes
glowing demonically for whatever romantic scene Daniel had
planned.
    “I