The Game Show Bride. Jackie Braun

hadn’t been able to afford the mortgage after he’d left. In fact, as it turned out, they hadn’t been able to afford the house together. Her ex-husband had been paying the bills using credit cards. So, she’d sold the house, and a good deal of its furnishings.

      But the apartment didn’t look bad. She’d always had a knack for decorating—large spaces or small. She’d hung white linen panels that she’d made herself at the double window. They helped to conceal a rather uninspired view of the fire escape. At an art fair the previous summer, she’d splurged on a pair of dreamy watercolor seascapes. On the opposite wall, she’d hung a set of white box-shaped shelves she’d found at a rummage sale. She hadn’t had to make them look distressed. They already were. Pictures of her girls, framed in simple blue or white wood, graced one shelf. Three of her favorite teacups from her collection stood on the other. The total effect was a bit French country, a bit flea market.

      Her one extravagance, if it could be called that, was the red rose she placed in a small bud vase in the middle of the coffee table. At the first sign of wilting, she bought a new one from the flower shop two blocks from the apartment. She’d started buying the roses right after Kyle left. They represented hope. And they reminded Kelli to take time not just to smell a bloom’s sweet scent, but to appreciate the beauty that could be found in unexpected places—like a perfect flower in a stuffy, small apartment or the gurgling laughter of a sticky-faced toddler.

      With fifteen minutes left before her company was to arrive, Kelli was coaxing Chloe to eat the remainder of her macaroni and cheese. If she got lucky, a Sesame Street video might keep Chloe occupied for most of the meeting. Katie could be counted on to entertain herself as well as see to any of her little sister’s immediate needs. It bothered Kelli sometimes that Katie had so much responsibility heaped on her small shoulders. Cleaning house and tending to a toddler shouldn’t have been regular chores for a seven-year-old. But Katie rarely whined about it. Like her mother, it appeared she had already learned the futility of complaining.

      The doorbell rang just as Chloe decided to dump her plate of gooey pasta over the side of the high chair.

      “All done!” she announced proudly as the food hit the floor Kelli had just scrubbed.

      “Chloe Elizabeth! We don’t throw our food.”

      The toddler only grinned. “No, no, no,” she said as she shook one chubby finger.

      “Mom, someone’s here,” Katie called from the doorway.

      Nerves fluttered in her stomach.

      “It’s probably Mr. Maxwell or the people from the show. Can you let them in, please? I need to clean up in here and then I’ll be right there.”

      Sam hadn’t expected a child to open the door. The young girl he’d seen that day at the warehouse stared up at him. She was a miniature version of her mother, with the same chocolate eyes, same upturned nose and same stubborn chin lifted in defiance. Yes, it was going to be a very long month.

      “Hello. I’m Mr. Maxwell. I believe your mother is expecting me.”

      “I know. I’m Katie. Mom said to let you in. I’m supposed to be nice to you, even though she thinks you’re a jerk.” Her eyes grew wide and he waited for her apology, but she said, “Don’t tell her I said that, okay. I’m not allowed to say jerk.”

      Sam coughed. The girl was indeed her mother’s daughter.

      “We’ll keep it between the two of us then.”

      Katie motioned for him to come inside. The apartment was small, but tidy, and just this side of blast-furnace hot. He’d hoped, prayed actually, that the ride up in the elevator had been an aberration. But the fact became plain. The building did not have air-conditioning, and neither did this small apartment. It was mid-August, which meant it could be a good month before the weather turned cool.

      Then Kelli Walters walked into the room, and he would have sworn the already ungodly temperature inside the apartment notched up another dozen degrees. Sam had been sure this bizarre and unsuitable attraction had run its course, but clearly it hadn’t.

      What was it about her?

      Her hair was pulled back in a simple and youthful ponytail; her skin was dewy with moisture. She wore a yellow tank top and tan cotton skirt that stopped a good three inches above her knees. There was nothing overtly sexy about the casual outfit and he supposed it made sense given the heat, but Sam wished she’d worn slacks. The woman had some nice legs—as slender as a model’s and yet as toned as an athlete’s. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned his collar.

      “You might want to slip off your jacket before you pass out,” she said wryly. “It’s a bit warm in here.”

      He dragged his gaze away from her legs. “Warm? Oh, no. Hot. Extremely hot.”

      Awareness seemed to hum between them for a moment before she said, “No air-conditioning, sorry.”

      She pushed a stray lock of hair off her damp forehead, looking not the least bit apologetic. “Can I get you something to drink? I’ve got iced tea.”

      “Anything cold would be fine.”

      As Sam said it, he felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked down into the messy, orange face of a grinning toddler.

      “I remember you,” Sam murmured, thinking about his last run-in with the baby. He’d had to send his jacket out for spot removal. If her hands were as messy as her face, it looked like he could count on another dry-cleaning bill.

      Kelli glanced down as well and then gasped. “Chloe!”

      She transferred her sheepish gaze to Sam. “I’m sorry, Mr. Maxwell. I was so busy wiping up the mess she made on the floor I never got around to her hands and face. She’s become a regular Houdini lately. Even when I buckle her into the high chair, she can manage to slip out.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind.”

      He took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at the streaks around his right knee, succeeding only in making a larger smear.

      Kelli had just managed to clean up the toddler when the doorbell rang again. She ushered all of her guests into the cramped living room and, after ensuring that the girls were settled in their bedroom with a video, she returned with a tray of glasses and a pitcher of iced tea.

      The only available seat was on the couch next to Sam. Their knees bumped as she settled onto the half of a cushion that remained.

      “Excuse me,” they both said at the same time.

      Kelli crossed her legs in the hope of making herself somehow smaller, but she only succeeded in making her skirt smaller. The hem hiked up to the middle of her thighs. As she tried to discreetly tug it back down, Sam reached for his iced tea, nearly draining the glass before putting it back on the tray she’d set on the coffee table.

      “Can I get you something else?”

      He responded with a curiously tight, “No.”

      For the next half hour, Joe Whaley, the main cameraman who would be assigned to Sam, explained what he would and would not film. After a quick tour of the apartment and a brief introduction to Kelli’s girls, he decided where remote cameras would be positioned.

      He was a big burly man, with shaggy dark eyebrows and a tattoo of a dragon on one bicep. Yet, he’d gotten down on one knee to shake hands with Katie and had even managed to delight a laugh out of Chloe with his impression of Donald Duck.

      After he stood, he asked his young assistant, “What do you think, Nic? How many remotes do you figure this job will take?”

      “Four? No, five, Dad.”

      He gave her ponytail an affectionate yank and winked at Kelli and Sam.

      “She’s a chip off the old block,” he said with obvious pride.

      Any concerns Kelli had about leaving her kids with Sam while under this man’s watchful eye evaporated.