Stephanie Doyle - Who Wants To Marry a Heartthrob?

“Trust me. With Brock, what you see is what you get. The man is as fake as his capped teeth and sunless tan.”

“That’s unfair. He might have hidden depths to him. Levels to his character that even he isn’t aware of. He is an actor. Surely he has to pull from some internal emotional wellspring. If not, then maybe I will bring something out in him that no other woman has.”

Richard’s scowl increased tenfold. “You’re not serious. You’re not actually interested in a soap opera actor?”

Hmm, Bridget mused. Was that jealousy she heard in the subtle undertones of his shouting?

“Like I said, I don’t know him well enough to know whether I like him or not. But he certainly deserves a chance. Let’s put aside the fact that he picked me over several other beautiful women—”

“You know,” he stated, cutting her off, very obviously irritated. “You’re not dog meat. Or horrifically disfigured in some way. It’s not the biggest shock in the world that you were selected.”

“You said before the show even began that there was no way he was going to pick me. Until the end you had me pegged as one of the losers.”

“Because of the sort of person he is and the type of woman I imagined he might be attracted to, not because of you,” Richard clarified. “You’re not ugly.”

“Thank you,” she beamed, tucking that little gem of a compliment away to savor the next time he ticked her off for some reason. “But let’s put that aside for now. The truth is I’m not getting any younger.”

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