One To Watch(34)

“Sounds delicious,” Bea agreed, “but probably not super safe for a boat.”

“Just another reason I prefer dry land.” Jefferson laughed. “I installed a killer smoker in my backyard last year—maybe if things work out you’ll get to see it?”

His expression was so sweet, almost hopeful, that Bea wondered if she should have listened to Lauren and picked this guy for her first kiss after all.

“What about you?” he prodded. “What’s your favorite kind of food?”

Bea opened her mouth to answer what should have been an easy question—Thai food, burgers, chocolate cake—before considering the wave of “If you love to eat so much, you deserve every health problem that overburdens our insurance system” ire such a response might prompt.

“We have access to such amazing produce in California,” she said truthfully, but smiling wider than she otherwise might have. “I absolutely love to swing by the farmers’ market to see what’s in season.”

“You’ll have to teach me your mysterious coastal ways.” Jefferson laughed and patted his belly. “I’m obviously more of a meat-and-potatoes guy.”

There was something so appealing about Jefferson’s confidence. Sure, some of it was that he was a man, and therefore not automatically subjected to the same kind of judgment as Bea about his body—but there was something deeper there, an inner ease that Bea hoped might rub off on her if she spent a little more time with him.

That would have to wait, though, because Lauren was approaching to get her ready for her next setup.

“We only have a couple hours of light left,” she explained. “You ready to film your conversation with Marco?”

Bea smiled tightly and followed Lauren over to the stunningly beautiful hot tub, which was built into a raised part of the deck, allowing for a 360-degree view from the coast to the horizon. Thick steam rose up in sheets, someone had set out an ice bucket of Prosecco and several glasses, and in the tub itself was Marco, his dark hair and olive skin slick with condensation. Bea felt another churn in her stomach with the realization that he was waiting here with the sole and express purpose of kissing her.

“Okay, kids,” Lauren teased, “have fun!”

She backed off to give them the impression of privacy (despite three nearby cameras), and Marco looked up at Bea expectantly.

“I’ve been hoping you would come over to hang with me,” he flirted. “What good is a hot tub without a hot girl?”

Bea laughed. “You’re really leaning in to that signature Main Squeeze wordplay, huh?”

“Oh yeah.” Marco grinned. “Are you getting in? I promise, it feels amazing.”

Bea was self-conscious for a moment as she removed her sarong, but between her tequila bravery and the goosebumps on her bare skin, she stepped out of it as quickly as possible and slid into the delicious heat of the water.

“Oh my God, that’s good.” Bea exhaled heavily as she let the water rise up to her chest. “I’m already so mad about how cold it’s going to be when we get out.”

“I don’t know about you,” Marco said conspiratorially, “but I don’t plan on getting out anytime soon.”

He scooted closer to Bea, whose face flushed with nerves and heat—he wasn’t wasting any time, was he? Lauren hadn’t been kidding when she said she would take care of everything. But now that she had, Bea wasn’t sure she liked it; it was all too arranged, a speeding train she couldn’t exit even if she wanted to.

“So”—she cleared her throat—“you work in politics?”

“I do.” He smiled. “I work for a messaging firm.”

“Does that mean, like, you do slogans for campaigns?”

“Sure, sometimes. We conduct polls, figure out what ideas resonate with voters, and help candidates adjust their message accordingly.”

“So you’re the reason people get labeled ‘inauthentic.’”

Marco raised an eyebrow, taking in Bea with his sparkling green eyes. “No one is just one thing. We help candidates understand how to put their best feet forward.”

“Like taking a picture from your best angle?”

“Exactly.” Marco leaned closer. “Except you don’t have any bad angles.”

She could kiss him now, she knew she could—but something was holding her back.

“If you’re such an expert,” she said softly, “in peddling these polished versions of the truth, how can I know if you’re being honest with me?”

“I’m not bullshitting you.” He dropped his voice. “I’ve thought about this before. A lot.”

“Thought about what?” Bea asked lightly.

“For years, I’ve wondered what it would be like with someone like you.”

Bea’s whole body went tense.

“Someone … like me?”

His breath was hot against her earlobe, her neck.

“Those arms, those lips, that body,” he murmured. “God, Bea, you’re so big. I bet I could just disappear into you.”

He cupped her face in his hands, and he was so handsome, and her heart was pounding, and she felt so horribly ugly, she could taste bile as she remembered Ray’s touch, she missed him so much she could scream, but Marco just kept moving closer—