Page 25 of His Choice

“I can make it,” I said. At least that’s what I believe I said. My tongue was still inexplicably twisted.

James stepped in front of me to open the guest room door anyway, then stood aside so I could walk in. I saw the bed and wanted to lie down, but the kind butler had taken hold of my hand and led me to the adjoining bathroom.

“There’s some pain reliever in this medicine cabinet,” James said, opening the mirrored glass doors.

I leaned against the vanity as he poured a glass of water, then handed me two pills. I popped them down, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “I’m sorry.”

He took the empty glass from me. “You’ve said that already.”

“Not to you,” I pointed out.

“It’s no bother,” James assured me. “We just want you to feel better,” he said.

I grunted. “I’m sure your boss would rather I leave.” My eyes opened wider than they had since I started drinking the champagne. “Hey, do you think I could? Would someone drive me home?”

James frowned. “You signed a contract. The production company could sue you for breach. And Cliff… Mr. Walker, wouldn’t want you to quit. Don’t make too much of what happened. Everything will be better tomorrow.”

I wiped a hand over my mouth, realizing I was sweating. “I must look awful. And I made a fool of myself.” I thought about how my parents, Melody, and coworkers had watched the fiasco, and I wished I could die. They must have been so disappointed in me as well as embarrassed to know me. I reached to brush away another bead of sweat, but realized it was a tear.

To my surprise, James pulled me into a hug. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this, but you seem like you could use it.”

I swallowed and pulled away, my composure returning. “I’m sorry.”

James grinned. “You’ve established that.”

I pointed at his neatly pressed white shirt. “This time, I meant for getting you rumpled.”

He led me from the bathroom to the bed. “Do you need help undressing?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Cliff would be upset if I left you here, then you hurt yourself falling,” he explained. “I promise I’m not creeping on you.” Of course he wasn’t. Only a lunatic would find me attractive after my performance.

I nodded, but that motion made me wobble a smidge. “Just need to lie down.”

“Here, let me help you,” James said when he saw me grab the bedpost for stability. He helped me remove the suit jacket, then folded it and put it on a nearby chair. I tried to bend down to remove my shoes. “Stop. Sit on the edge of the bed and I’ll do that for you.”

I was beyond protesting. The best thing I could do at this point was follow everyone’s instructions. Once I was sitting, he untied the laces and gently removed the shoes. Meanwhile, I unbuttoned my dress shirt, not feeling modest since I had on an undershirt. James took the shirt from my hands, folded it, and laid it on top of the jacket.

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“Pants,” he commanded. My eyes enlarged. “Not creeping, remember? I have a boyfriend and no desire to lose him.”

I stood, unbuckled the belt, then undid the zipper. “That must be nice, huh?”

He waited for me to slide the trousers down my legs, then balanced me as I pulled them over my feet. James doubled them over his arm and added them to the pile of garments I never wanted to see again.

“Having a boyfriend? It’s wonderful, yes. I’d love that for Cliff. To be honest, I’m skeptical about him finding one on the show, though.”

“Why?” I wondered. Maybe I’d get some inside scoop on his boss.

“I imagine most of the guys just hoped to get on television…or will pretend to like him because of his money.” James shook his head.

“Not me. I always felt sorry for rich people. I know that sounds stupid, but they must question who their real friends are.” Now that I was lying on the bed with my head propped on pillows, it seemed I could think and speak more clearly. “And I sure didn’t want to be on television. I knew I’d embarrass myself.” I rubbed my temples. “I’m not in the same league as the other men. Seeing them… I figured a few drinks would make it easier. I didn’t think champagne was supposed to have much alcohol.” I shrugged. “Guess when you don’t drink, it doesn’t take much.”

“If you didn’t want to be on the show, why did you apply?” James questioned.

I paused. “A part of me wanted to be. I got caught up in a fantasy, carried away by the idea of meeting Cliff Walker and him liking me.” I hiccupped. “Stupid, I know. He’s so good looking.”