* * *
The McKenzie Afterschool Program was ecstatic to be on the receiving end of Brice Masterson's generosity, or so the chairwoman, Eliza Waltz, repeatedly informed him. Brice smiled and nodded once again, hoping his impatience didn't show on his face. Janna should be arriving any minute, and then this circus could get underway.
"I hope you don't mind," Mrs. Waltz was saying while placing a pudgy hand on his arm, "but I invited a few local newspersons to cover today's event. It will provide some excellent publicity for the program."
Brice tried hard not to frown down into the wrinkled face of the chairwoman at the unwelcome news, instead scanning the parking lot once again. He saw a news van pull up, followed by another, and was hard pressed not to sigh.
Brice was used to the press, finding them generally easy to charm. But today wasn't about him. It was about Janna and winning the wager, and his way into her heart. The press was an unwelcome public intrusion into what he considered a private engagement.
He caught sight of his limo, and an enormous smile broke out across his face. At that moment the approaching cameras didn't worry him too much. All his attention was focused on the attractive woman who was stepping out of his limousine.
She was wearing a worn gray t-shirt with the unlikely words "Orange Peanut" scrawled in a horrible rust color, and the curls that escaped her messy bun fell around her shoulders in a soft cascade. Her sapphire eyes were wide with confusion, and when they finally settled on him across the now crowded parking lot, his heart contracted almost painfully in his chest. Brice hurried over to meet her, the elderly chairwoman almost jogging to keep up with his long strides as she followed him.
"Janna," he said warmly, pulling her into his arms for an embrace. He wanted to kiss her, tried to capture her lips, but kissed her cheek instead when she quickly turned her head to the side.
"Brice," she whispered, confusion and panic waring in her voice, "what's going on?"
"I'm winning our bet," he replied with a devilish grin.
"Ms. Puchina," Chairwoman Waltz interrupted, slightly winded from her chase. "How nice to see you. I wasn't aware that one of our volunteers was acquainted with Brice Masterson." Eliza Waltz obviously possessed the wisdom of her years because she immediately realized what had prompted his generous, and sudden, donation, and she was not one to miss an opportunity. "Ms. Puchina tutors some of the older children every Tuesday and Thursday night," Chairwoman Waltz touted her eyes on Brice's.
"I am well aware that Ms. Puchina is a paragon of virtue who delights in helping her fellow man," Brice responded with a smile.
"So we're back to virtue," Janna whispered to him out of the side of her mouth.
"This fellow man could certainly use your help."
"Well, as you said, I'd, of course, be delighted to help." Her smile had an evil tinge. "If only I knew how..."
"Grab a shovel," he said, his voice loud enough to reach Waltz's ear, who had been leaning in desperate to catch their words. "This playground isn't going to build itself."
Janna burst into laughter, which was quickly overrun by the rush of voices from reporters, who took Brice's words as their cue to descend.
"Mr. Masterson," a portly gentleman with an unruly facial hair said, pushing his way to the forefront, "will you be giving a general press conference or individual interviews? The release wasn't clear."
Brice groaned inwardly at the thought of a dozen individual interviews with the camera crews that were rapidly gathering around them. "One shot for everybody," he replied swiftly. "Set up over there, where the workmen are organizing the supplies. We'll start in ten."
Janna pulled on his sleeve, looking up into his eyes and stopping his breath. She was so unbelievably beautiful, and she didn't even notice. "Brice, what's going on?"
He looked over at Eliza, who was still hovering and asked her politely to supervise the cameras and reporters. "You invited the press, so you wrangle them," he told the not-so-little old lady. She hurried over to cluck at the crews as they set up their shots.
Brice slid his arm through hers and began slowly escorting her across the parking lot and towards the lawn where the camera crews were assembling. "First, I didn't intend for the press to be here. I want to make that clear. I don't want this to count against me."
"Count against you?"
"You'll be making the final decisions about our wager. I want you to realize that I didn't plan for this to be a circus."
"What exactly did you plan?"
"To win the bet."
"Of course," she said, rolling her eyes. "But how?"
"You said you would donate my time to your favorite charity if you won the bet. So I figured to ensure my victory, I would donate my time to your favorite charity myself, as part of the date."
"You devious bastard. It's brilliant."
"Thank you, my darling." He bent to place a chaste kiss on her cheek. "So, for the next two hours, we'll work on building the playground. And when my hours are up, my people will stay here and finish the job."
"Your people?" He watched her scan the crowd and picked out the men and women dressed in t-shirts with the Masterson logo.
"I informed all of my local employees that if they wanted to volunteer their time today to a worthy charity, I would give them a paid day off to do so. That got quite a few volunteers. The others are professionals I hired to make sure the playground gets completed today."
"But we haven't raised enough money yet to buy the--"
"You raised it."
Janna blushed and wanted to continue their conversation, but they had reached the ring of reporters. Brice escorted her to the center, then beckoned the chairwoman over to join them. Picking up a shovel, he welcomed the press and told them to begin filming.
"The Mastersons have always felt very privileged to be able to support worthy causes, and there are none so worthy as those that help our youth. That is why we're here helping to build a playground at the McKenzie Afterschool Program. My employees and I are dedicating ourselves to completing this project today so that the children who participate in this program will have somewhere safe to play. Now I'll turn things over to the illustrious chairwoman of the program, Mrs. Eliza Waltz, who will tell you all about the wonderful things this program does for our community's youth."
Eliza preened in the spotlight, but Brice paid little attention to her words, or to the cameras and journalists jostling all around him. He only had eyes for the angelic woman next to him. He could tell the press conference made Janna nervous, but she remained by his side, her posture ramrod straight, a soft smile on her face. Before he'd realized it, Mrs. Waltz had wrapped up her speech, and the reporters took the opportunity to begin shouting questions. Unfortunately, the one question on their collective mind was just who exactly was the woman at Brice's side.
"Mr. Masterson, is it true that you are in a relationship with the woman beside you?"
"Who is she? Are you engaged?"
"Is it true that she's moved into the Masterson mansion?"
Brice frowned when he realized that the rapid-fire invasiveness of the press was getting to Janna. "Now, now," he chastised the crowd, waiting for them to quiet themselves. "This lovely woman beside me is Ms. Janna Puchina, a volunteer at the Afterschool Program. She's also my girlfriend."
There were audible gasps in the crowd, and Janna's eyes widened to epic proportions as she looked at him. "No more questions," he said then, pulling Janna with him through the crowd and towards his hirelings. "I'm sorry," he said, placing his hand on the back of her neck and kneading it gently. "I didn't expect all of this--"
"You told them I was your girlfriend."
"You are."
"But--"
Brice pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around hers to keep her in place. "No buts. You're my girlfriend. Now the world knows it." He bent down and kissed her softly. "The clock is ticking, and I don't want to waste anymore time on talk. Let's get to work."