Playing Games(24)

I couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Maybe?"

He considered this. Then, he leaned in. "You want to keep making good TV, then?"

“What do you mean?”

Liam gave me a wicked smile. “I mean we make sure that they keep us around as long as possible by making some really good TV.”

And just like that, heat flushed through my body.











That night, in the hotel room, Abby and Dean took one bed, and Liam and I took the other. We slept clothed, of course, but the bed was small enough that I couldn’t move without bumping into his arm, or leg. At one point, I woke up to find his arm around my waist, and a tingle of anticipation moved through me.

But then he shifted and his arm moved away again. I bit my lip, thinking. Just a fluke, then? Of course it was. So why had I been so thrilled at the simple touch?











Paris, France





"There's the Palais Garnier," I told my partner, pointing at the majestic building in the distance. "We're in the right place."

"Come on, then," he said, and grabbed my hand in his, pulling me down the busy streets of Paris.

That weird feeling fluttered in my stomach when his hand grasped mine. That goofy flutter had pretty much been my constant companion on this leg of the race. The Liam that had been my silent companion at the beginning of the team-up? Gone.

Instead, I found myself with a Liam that I didn't quite know what to do with. A Liam that was attentive, asked for my opinion on directions and flights, and liked to lean in and whisper into my ear when we were sitting close together. Unlike Brodie, Liam was proving to be a partner that stuck by my side, bought me drinks when he thought I might be thirsty, and generally made me feel valued.

He'd also taken to holding my hand.

It had thrown me off at first; we'd been at the airport, waiting for our flight into Paris when he'd simply reached over and taken my hand in his. I hadn't missed the fact that Abby's eyebrows had shot up to her hairline, or the fact that the cameras had zoomed in and then proceeded to hover for the next hour in the hopes that we'd do something exciting or flirty.

We were just making good TV. Sort of. Our flirting had definitely escalated to a different level, and it was a level I hadn't quite been prepared for. Not that I was complaining. I'd started it, after all, with my impulsive kiss.

Except now that I'd started it? I was having a hard time distinguishing real from fake. The hand holding mine felt real. It was for the camera, I kept telling myself. But I couldn't quite relax and accept that. Maybe I wasn't as good as pretending as I thought I was.

Maybe I'd really wanted to kiss Liam. Which was weird. He wasn't my type. He was silent, and tatted, and pierced, and famous. I was just small town Katy, who went to culinary school and wanted nothing more out of life than to make fancy cupcakes. We weren't in the same league. We weren't the same type. I normally went for big, muscular cowboys with boots and a tan. Liam was tall, lean, with dark hair and not much of a tan at all. But his eyes were dark and intense, and I found my gaze constantly going back to those fascinating piercings.

As if he could hear my thoughts, Liam stopped and dragged me close, his mouth hovering near my ear. I immediately froze, my breath catching in my throat. "To your left," he whispered. "Standing by the corner. It's the Olympians. Do you see the flag anywhere?"

I glanced around and pretended to be studying the Paris streets. My gaze focused on a green and blue blurb at the far end of the Palais. The World Races logo. "I see it."

"Summer and Polly don't see us yet," he murmured, tugging me close. "Good thing we're in black and not a bright color."

He looped his arm around my shoulders and we pretended to be a couple, loitering with the crowd as we headed toward the Palais Garnier. The streets of Paris were incredibly busy, and buses whizzed past on a regular basis. The buildings around us were tall, adding to the vague feel of claustrophobia that I felt, sandwiched in between them. The Olympians wandered past, ultra-noticeable in their bright green, and appeared to be looking for the flag. They hadn't spotted it yet. As soon as they headed in the wrong direction, I squeezed Liam's hand and signaled that the coast was clear. We sprinted for the mat.

A man in a tuxedo, red cape, and white mask stood under The World Races flag, and held the customary disk out to us. We grabbed it with a quick thank you and then dashed away a good distance, making sure we weren't nearby if Summer and Polly spotted us.

We huddled together and I flipped the disc, reading the back. "Welcome to the Palais Garnier, the site that inspired Gaston Leroux's famous work, The Phantom of the Opera. Today, you will choose between two tasks inspired by the novel - 'Chandeliers' or 'Performance.'"