Ready to Run (I Do, I Don't 1)

Jordan should call a gracious defeat. She knew that. Knew that she could go back to the drawing board, find a contestant for Jilted who wasn’t so damn stubborn and resistant, and yet…

It was exactly that stubbornness, that pent-up resentment, that didn’t just make him the ideal candidate—it made him the only candidate, at least as far as Jordan was concerned. There was nothing more appealing than the idea of taming the man who couldn’t be tamed. The more forbidden fruit their contestant appeared, the more viewers would be salivating for him to fall in love.

This show might not have been Jordan’s idea. She could even admit to herself that it was ridiculous, but she also knew she could make it a hit, and the key was Luke Elliott.

The very stubborn reluctance that was a pain in her ass right now was exactly what would make the show work. It would make women fall in love with him—not only the twenty-five contestants but the millions of women who’d watch him from the comfort of their living rooms.

Luke Elliott’s gruff hesitation was the stuff of instant ratings successes.

And the moment when he fell in love on national television? The stuff of fairy tales.

“Hey, Country Boy,” she called after him.

He stopped and turned, his large frame illuminated by the twilight. She smiled, then grinned outright when she saw his eyes narrow.

“This city girl’s not going anywhere,” she said with a wink.

His eyes flicked over her, lingering on her stilettos. “Well, then. Best get yourself some better footwear. At least be comfortable while you waste your time.”

Luke turned away again, but Jordan didn’t follow, not right away. He was probably right. Proper shoes wouldn’t hurt, but it also wasn’t her biggest concern right now.

Step one? Find a place to stay. She had a month to land her guy before her boss started getting pissy, and she needed someplace to set up shop other than the tiny motel room.

Step two? Infiltrate every corner of Luke Elliott’s life. And then some.

Chapter 5

“So? What do you think?”

Jordan ran a hand over the white tile counter of the sunny kitchen before turning to face the real estate agent.

Stacey Stine was a spunky, small bundle of energy, with gorgeous black hair, bright blue eyes, and the cutest dimples Jordan had ever seen. She was also impeccably put together, her hair styled in big curls, her mascara tastefully applied but definitely present, her nails perfectly polished. Still, she struck Jordan as the type who’d merely laugh and curse if she chipped one of those nails, and the combination of dolled-up but laid-back made her extremely likable.

As the only real estate agent in town, Stacey had been the first person Jordan called that morning, after a mostly sleepless night of mentally planning how to temporarily relocate her life from Manhattan to Lucky Hollow.

Her boss had been instantly on board, but, then, Raven Cleary would say yes to just about anything if it meant making Jilted a success. Raven was the brains behind the show, but due to contractual obligations on another show, which was in its final season, much of the early stages of Jilted had landed on Jordan’s plate.

Whatever you need, Jordie. Just get our guy.

Simon came into the kitchen and gave Stacey a kiss on the cheek, having already made her an instant best friend, the way he did with everyone else. “You were right, darling. The master bath is to die for. That claw-foot tub!”

“Is mine,” Jordan said, opening the fridge, which she was delighted to see looked brand-new.

Simon pouted. “Says who?”

She gave him a look. “You’re not seriously thinking of staying here with me?”

“Says the girl who just yesterday told me she’d be back on a plane to JFK by now. There’re two bedrooms. Big one for me, little one for you.”

She laughed. “Have you run this by Dean?”

Jordan and Simon worked closely together, but they weren’t technically on the same team and thus didn’t have the same boss. Or the same budget. And the legal side of the business was a bit more stingy with their budget than the talent acquisitions side was.

“Working on it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Told him you need me. I mean, who else is going to convince all these lovely locals that we’re going to turn them into stars?” He made jazz hands as he said it.

“So it’s true?” Stacey asked, resting her elbows on the counter and looking intrigued. “I didn’t want to pry, but I heard that you’re trying to get Luke Elliott to be the next bachelor?”

“Sort of bachelor,” Jordan said. “But he’s…resisting.”