Page 23 of At the Heart of It (The Can’t Have Hearts Club #4)

“But there’s only so much you can force. The human heart is a fickle thing. It stands to reason that a love-based marriage would be just as fickle.”

He started to argue. To insist there were plenty of strategies for staying in love. Plenty of books said how to do it—hell, Viv’s own books went on about it endlessly.

But the truth was, he didn’t disagree. Not completely, anyway.

Which was a pretty damn good reason he planned to avoid the whole love and marriage mess in the future.

Jonah picked up his scone and took a bite. It was probably time to end this line of conversation. Hell, he probably shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. It was just that he’d never gotten answers before.

Maybe this show was his ticket to closure and forgiveness.

“So are we good now?” Viv asked.

Her voice sounded oddly small, and Jonah felt a stab of guilt followed by a flicker of anger, which just pissed him off. At what point did exes stop having the power to jerk your emotions around like a paddleball?

“We’re good,” he said, and took another bite of scone.

They didn’t say anything for several minutes, both feigning intense interest in their pastries. When Viv’s voice broke the silence, Jonah nearly jumped off the couch.

“Here they are!”

She bounded out of her chair like it was on fire, dusting nonexistent scone crumbs off her shirt.

Jonah glanced toward the front window and watched a nondescript sedan pull into Viv’s circular driveway.

He looked at Kate behind the wheel, her dark hair smoothed back from her face and held tight at the nape of her neck with a silver clasp.

Her fingers looked long and graceful on the steering wheel, and he remembered what they’d felt like tunneling through his hair.

His heart did a stupid little shiver in the center of his chest, and he hoped to God Viv wasn’t looking at him. He turned away, annoyed with himself, and took a fierce bite of scone.

Kate walked into the makeshift hair and makeup studio and glanced at the clock on the wall. They had fifteen minutes before the crew would start to get cranky, and Elena still had half her head covered with hot rollers.

Ginger, the makeup artist, glanced at Kate and gave a nervous smile. “Sorry. I know we’re running behind, but we had a little flatiron mishap. Don’t ask.”

“I won’t,” Kate assured her, though she did sort of wonder. “You’re not making her look dramatically different than yesterday, are you?”

“Relax. She’ll still look like the same person from the B-roll footage. Just a little glammed up for the in-studio shots, that’s all.”

Lead cameraman Pete Waller lumbered into the room looking like a kindly grizzly bear in a khaki vest. “Ladies.” He set a cardboard drink holder on the dressing table and nodded to Kate.

“Hot chocolate,” he said. “Figured I’d grab some for you before the lugheads on my crew started filling their thermoses. ”

“You’re a lifesaver.” Kate picked up a paper cup and peeled back the lid to blow inside. “Oh my God, I love you. There’s whipped cream and cinnamon.”

Pete nodded, then turned to look at Elena in the mirror.

Scratching his beard, he studied her with a thoughtful expression.

“When you and your husband go out to the sunroom to talk about how the day went, we’re gonna have cameras stashed all over,” he said.

“Just act natural and have a normal conversation. But don’t say anything you wouldn’t want on TV. ”

Elena nodded and gave him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”

Pete grunted and walked out of the room.

Kate took a sip of cocoa, grateful they’d landed him for this show.

He’d worked on some of the most scandalous reality TV programs in the business, but there were lines he wouldn’t cross.

Filming people without their knowledge was one of them, not even when participants had signed ridiculously broad agreements like the ones required for this show.

“Kate! There you are!”

She turned to see Amy hustling into the room, her blond curls a bit more disheveled than normal. “Craft services wants to know if they can set up lunch in the kitchen or if we need to shoot in there.”

“That’s fine, we’re not doing the cooking sequence until late afternoon or maybe tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch again and felt her nerves jittering in time with the second hand. “Are Viv and Jonah ready to go?”

“Jonah’s been sitting in the parlor reading for at least an hour,” she said. “I think Viv’s meditating or something.”

“She’d better not mess up her hair,” Ginger muttered as she unfurled a hot roller from Elena’s head and finger-combed the fresh waves.

“Okay.” Kate took a deep breath, tamping down the butterflies that threatened to surge up her throat. “Did the sound guys fix whatever was wrong with that boom mic?”

“No, but they had a spare. Oh! And we got Sam to cry in his side interview, so that’s golden.”

Kate stole a nervous glance at Sam’s wife. Elena seemed unperturbed as Ginger unfastened another roller from her hair. She caught Kate’s eye in the mirror and nodded. “Don’t worry. I can cry on command, too.”

“Right.” Kate took another breath. “It’s important to just be yourself, okay? Let the emotions flow, even if they’re not pretty. Authenticity is key here.”

“The mascara’s bulletproof,” Ginger added helpfully. “Just try not to rub your eyes too much.”

Gripping her cocoa in one hand, Kate edged toward the door. “Will you excuse us a moment?”

She pushed her way into the hall and Amy followed, pulling the door closed behind her. Kate reached down and switched off her two-way radio, then waited for Amy to do the same.

“How does he seem?” Kate whispered. She didn’t say Jonah’s name, but she didn’t have to.

Amy shrugged. “He’s good. Got a little bristly when the props girl suggested he put down the Ann Patchett novel and read Sports Illustrated instead, but overall I think he’s fine.”

Kate felt a flush of relief, both that Jonah seemed fine and that Amy hadn’t forced her to spell out who “he” was. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good thing. Was it that transparent Jonah was on her mind?

“How’s Viv?” Kate asked.

“Good. Centered, according to her. She was studying a bunch of notecards when I saw her last. I reemphasized the importance of making sure this sounds unscripted.”

“She’s good at that,” Kate said. “Remember her last appearance on Oprah ?”

“She was adorable.”

“Exactly. Just remind her to bring more of that.”

Kate glanced at her watch again and tried not to feel nervous. Today would be their first time shooting with all four players—Viv, Jonah, and the couple they were tasked with helping.

“How’s his cat?”

Kate looked up to see Amy giving her a tiny smirk. It wasn’t a judgmental one, so at least there was that.

But Kate couldn’t afford to have her going doing that path. She shrugged and gave her best look of nonchalance. “Beats me. I haven’t seen Jonah outside work since I went over and talked to him right after the pre-production meeting.”

Technically, that was true. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t texted each other regularly. Sometimes it was all-business, sometimes it was flirty, but it definitely toed the line between professional contact and something more.

Last night had been more of the same. Kate had texted around 10:00 p.m. as the tub was filling in her hotel bathroom.

I emailed you a new draft of the contract. Have your attorney look at it if you like, but we need signatures by Friday. Also, there’s been a venue change for next Wednesday’s shoot. I’ll forward the info.

She’d finished pouring bubble bath into the tub before climbing in, resting her phone on the edge with a silent prayer of thanks for the invention of the waterproof phone case. She hadn’t expected Jonah to text back, but felt a tiny shiver of pleasure at the new message chime a few seconds later.

Got it. Thx.

Was it wrong to feel disappointed by the brevity? Yes, of course. This was business. They were business colleagues, and they couldn’t afford to be chatty or too friendly.

Even so, Kate felt a flutter of excitement when the phone buzzed again.

Tell me the truth: Do you ever stop working?

Kate smiled to herself, then texted back.

I’m not working now. I’m actually relaxing.

There was a brief pause, then a bubble to indicate he was texting back. An image popped up on screen, and Kate clicked to see what it was.

Marilyn, the judgey-eyebrow cat, does not believe you.

Kate laughed at the cutesy meme of his cat, her feline features arranged in a look of perfect skepticism. She stared at the photo a few more seconds, then typed a response.

I promise I am. Look.

She hit the camera icon, then aimed the lens at the beer bottle perched on the edge of the tub. She turned it a little to the side, angling the camera so she could get the words Jamaican Me Pumpkin and 10 Barrel Brewing in the photo, along with a froth of bubbles visible on the edge of the tub.

The second she hit “Send,” she wondered if she should have done it. Would it seem too flirtatious? Had she meant it to be?

Of course not , she reassured herself. You’re just making a friendly connection with a cast member. It’s perfectly innocent.

Which she knew wasn’t true. Knew she’d deliberately slipped one bare leg up through the suds, lending a backdrop of naked flesh to her bathtub beer pic.

But the beer was in the foreground. Maybe that’s all he’d notice.

Jonah’s reply buzzed through three seconds later.

That looks amazing.

Kate had smiled to herself. See? They could do this. Chat about beer like good friends.

Two seconds later, he’d texted again.

The beer looks good, too.

Okay, so he was flirting. She should have put a stop to it. But instead, she’d just lain there in the tub feeling warm and languorous while soap suds fizzed around her.

“What are you smiling about?”