Page 21 of His Choice

“Sure,” I agreed, wiping my hands on the legs of my trousers.

“Sweat stains,” Marv chastised as he watched me, then snickered.

“Ha, yeah,” I mumbled with a fake grin.

A couple of minutes passed, then Marv called for quiet on the set. The first limo driver was signaled to make their way down my long driveway to the portico.

“We’re going live, folks,” Marv warned everyone on the set. “Action!”

I swallowed, worrying again about whether I smelled bad. The makeup artist had already felt the need to reapply face powder four or five times in the last ten minutes.

The limo stopped right on the nearly imperceptible x-marks they’d taped on the driveway. There was a pause, I assumed for dramatic affect. One of the cameras was pointed at my face for a reaction. You think they’re gorgeous, I reminded myself before even seeing them.

The back door slowly opened, and I was pleasantly surprised. The man who stepped out of the car was around my height of six-foot-two, though he appeared to be in his late twenties at most. As he approached, I could see he might have been a mix of Asian and Latino with a very handsome face. Dark eyes and hair, slender build though fit, and dressed impeccably in a tailored charcoal-colored suit.

“Hi,” I greeted.

He smiled before accelerating his pace to where I stood, then took my hand. “I’m Alex. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I replied.

This wasn’t too bad. Alex told me he was from Minneapolis. We made small talk about the cold winters of our respective towns, and we agreed that we were eager to learn more about each other. Then, Alex made his way inside where he would be served a glass of champagne to calm his nerves. I’d have no such crutch.

The second limo arrived, and the next guy was a younger brunet, just slightly shorter than me with a build like Alex’s. He was very good looking in a college-prep kind of way, though there was something about his expression that signaled trouble. I learned his name was Daryl, and he didn’t seem nervous at all. In fact, he remarked that he’d blow my world once I chose him for a boyfriend. The word ‘blow’ had been emphasized.

The third limo arrived, and a super handsome, muscular Black man stepped out. He immediately smiled and I was dazzled. His stride was confident and his grip was firm.

“I’m Ted,” he announced. Already, I decided he might be my favorite. I learned he was from Alabama, had been a college football player, and was now a fitness coach. I sighed with relief that I took great care of my body.

If I could have stopped the limos from coming, I would have. If any more of the men were studs like the first three, this was going to end up overwhelming and difficult. But arrive, they did.

The fourth limo dropped off a guy who was much shorter than the others. He also seemed very young, making me muse how he could have been a former student of mine.

“I’m Mike, but people call me Mikey,” he announced, appearing more nervous than I was. His hand was pale and slender, but I could tell Mikey had some muscle under the suit he wore. His face wasn’t classically handsome, but he was very cute and rather adorable. The poor guy was way more stressed than I was, and somehow it relaxed me. I went into former teacher mode, patting him on the shoulder and assuring him that I was glad he was there. He forced a grin, then bolted toward the house. I was about to greet the next person when Mikey turned. “Oh, I live in White Pines, too.” He blushed, then scampered into the front door.

“Huh,” I whispered. Now I worried Mikey really had been one of my students.

The man from the fifth car wasn’t as young as the others. While I would have guessed Ted to have been the oldest so far, he was still around my age. This latest arrival, though, had to be pushing forty, based on the crinkles near his eyes and the silver specks in his sideburns. But man, he made middle-aged look appealing. His features were perfection.

“Good evening. I’m Brighton,” he announced, his piercing blue eyes never leaving mine.

“Cliff,” I returned. “Nice to meet you. Is that a British accent I detect?”

“It is,” Brighton replied with a grin. “I’m from London. I’m a model, but I’m probably edging towards the time to start a new career.”

“I don’t know about that,” I said, meaning it. “You look pretty great to me.”

He smiled broader. “My daughter tells me I should keep going…in support of older men, I suppose.”

“Oh. You have a daughter?” Duh, he’d just said that.

“Clara.” He had the proud expression of a father. “She’s my world. But I believe she’s hoping I’ll meet a nice someone to distract me from being in her space now that she’s seventeen. She’s known for a few years now that I’m bisexual, so when she saw the advertisement for the show, she persuaded me to apply. Clara was quite taken with you.” His eyes scanned my body. “I was, too.”

“Uh, thanks. That means a lot coming from a model and all.” I gushed like a loser, probably with a face reddening like I was having an allergic reaction. I could imagine that if Mitch and Adam hadn’t been barred from watching the show right now, they’d be howling. Perhaps the program’s rules weren’t so bad after all.

Brighton clapped my upper arm. “I look forward to a lengthier conversation with you.”

“Me too,” I replied with a smile, watching him walk to the front door, his gait very much how I envisioned that of a model would be.