Romancing Miss Right by Lizzie Shane Page A

can ask.”
    “G’night, Bennett.”
    “It’s morning, Miranda. I’m calling from the
office.”
    “Then good morning.”
    “Good morning,” he echoed.
    She disconnected and set her phone aside,
attention already back on the screens. On them, the room was
crowded. It was hard to tell who Marcy might be looking at, but
someone there had gotten under Miss Right’s skin and Miranda would
find out who. She would find that spark of vulnerability and fan it
into genuine emotion.
    This was going to be an unforgettable season.
She would make sure of it.

Chapter Eight
    A body hit the ground hard,
sending up a puff of dust from the arena floor. The crowd cheered
wildly and Marcy joined in, waving her banner as Darius surged to
his feet and charged back into the fray, swinging his padded sword.
She didn’t know whose brilliant idea it had been to dress all the
Suitors on the group date up as knights, give them fake swords and
set them loose to whack at one another in the Renaissance Faire
Arena, but she had to admit the spectacle was entertaining—provided
none of them ended up in the hospital.
    She was fascinated by the strategies they
employed as they tried to win the prize—twenty precious minutes of
alone time with her. None of them had been told what the criterion
for winning was, but they had to guess it was her decision, so it
was telling what they did to try to impress her, revealing what
they thought she was looking for.
    Darius was ruthless, determined to defeat
everyone in his path. Mark L. appeared to have no athletic ability,
but rose laughing every time he got knocked down—she might have to
consider awarding him the alone time just for being such a good
sport. Mark J. and Aidan had taken to working together, teaming up
against the other opponents, which seemed to show a distinct lack
of understanding that there could be only one winner, but also
demonstrated that they could play well with others.
    And then there was Craig. All flash and
showmanship. No surprise there. He played to the crowd, earning
more cheers than all the others combined, but he couldn’t have made
many friends at the Suitors’ Mansion because the others kept coming
after him, ganging up on him with single-minded ferocity, as if
they had something to prove.
    Did they see him as a threat? She certainly
hadn’t shown him any favoritism. If anyone was the front runner at
this point, it had to be Daniel—though she supposed it was hard for
anyone to dislike Daniel, even his competition.
    She’d had her first private date with Daniel
last night—or as private as a date could be with camera crews
capturing every swoon-worthy moment. She’d had a nice time. He was
good company and it was hard not to enjoy herself on a picture
perfect date, but even as they’d swayed in the moonlight to the
strains of their private orchestra, she’d wondered if there was
something wrong with her that she wasn’t swept away by the
romanticism of the moment.
    Daniel kept gushing about how “unbelievable”
everything was—the helicopter that whisked them away, the private
viewing of the new Monet exhibit at the Getty Villa, the gourmet
meal served to them beside the fountains of the Villa, the private
orchestra that appeared and began playing just for them, and the
fireworks that exploded above their heads as soon as he finally
manned up and kissed her—a gentle, respectful peck which he’d
declared “perfect”.
    Everything was “perfect” and
“unbelievable”—and Marcy couldn’t help but wonder if he’d never
seen the show. How else could he be shocked by the standard generic
romance tactics?
    She’d smiled and said all the right
things—she’d written this scene too many times not to know her
lines—but she hadn’t been moved. Wasn’t she supposed to be moved?
She’d thought the reason she hadn’t fallen head over heels for Jack
was because she’d known on some subconscious level that he was in
love with someone else, even before