Free A First Date with Death by Diana Orgain Page B

completely frazzled by the time the scene was finally done.
    Harris took a step forward and said, “Mitch, Bruce, I’m sorry. Please take a moment to say your good-byes.”
    Mitch and Bruce shook hands with the other men. Then Mitch stepped away and approached me. “Georgia, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
    “I’m sorry, too,” I said sincerely. And then I had to ask him the question that Cheryl had instructed me to ask. “Mitch, I have to know. Were you looking for love or money?”
    He took a deep breath. “Georgia, I was looking for money.”
    I smiled, relief wafting over me.
    At least that’s one Mr. Wrong gone.
    Mitch turned and walked out of the mansion.
    Bruce moved closer to me, took my hand, and kissed it. “It was nice meeting you,” he said.
    I nodded and asked him the same question I’d asked Mitch.
    He tilted his head to the side and said, “I’m looking for love.”
    My breath caught. I’d just lost one of my eligible bachelors.
    “You’ll find it,” I said.
    He pressed his lips together and nodded. “I hope so. Good luck to you.” He turned and walked out the door, and part of me—well, most of me—wanted to follow him right out.
    Harris Carlson clapped his hands together. “Well, Georgia, seven men remain. You’ve eliminated one who was in it for the money and one who was in it for love. And, as our viewers are aware, we lost Pietro.” He glanced down a moment and the cast joined him in an unrehearsed silence. “Our confessional videos reveal that Pietro was on the show for the money.”
    I surveyed the remaining men. All were holding their champagne flutes and looking at me expectantly. The odds had tipped in my favor. Now of the seven men remaining, four were in it for love.
    I held up my glass. “Well, gentlemen, thank you for accepting this toast. May we all live long, happy lives.”
    Everyone clinked their glasses together.
    “Here’s to you, Georgia,” Paul said.
    “Tomorrow there will be a group date for five of you and a one-on-one,” Harris Carlson announced. “You’ll all receive your date cards in the morning.”
    That was my cue to leave the mansion alongside Harris. I walked next to him, feeling completely numb. Somehow, I’d agreed to continue on this godawful show and now I felt more alone than I’d felt when I’d been abandoned at the altar.
    My life had truly reached a low.
    •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •   •
    I slept a fitful night, reliving the image of Pietro hanging from the ceiling in my dressing room over and over.
    Did his death have anything to do with me?
    My worst fear was that he’d seen or known something and had been silenced for it.
    I couldn’t believe it was suicide, but what about the note they’d found?
    I finally drifted off to a deeper sleep, only to have the alarm jolt me awake. Bright Los Angeles sunshine was peeking through the blinds, but my head hurt and I still felt fatigued. I stumbled toward the miniature kitchen and fumbled for coffee. Someone on the production crew had stocked the refrigerator for me and I pulled out some cream for my coffee and some fresh raspberries to top my cereal.
    As the smell of coffee wafted through my trailer, there was a small sound from outside. Gravel crunching in a slow and even pace. Not a cat or a raccoon.
    This was definitely human.
    Why was someone creeping up on me?
    Through the blinds, I could make out the figure of a woman and she seemed to be dressed like my best friend, Becca, with a billowing jacket and skin-tight yoga pants. The woman’s long curly hair bounced as she walked.
    My shoulders dropped and air rushed back into my lungs.
    Yes, this was definitely my friend Becca.
    “G?” she called as she rapped softly on my door. “Are you up yet?”
    I pulled open the trailer door. “You scared me.”
    “Sorry,” she said, tumbling into the trailer and seating herself in the tiny eating area.
    “Why are