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and had been tight ever since.
    “It isn’t Vic,” Ty said. He sat on the couch and popped open the tab. “It’s me. I’m sick of this life.”
    “Yeah, it’s tough,” Scott agreed from his recliner. “Money in your pocket, a new babe every night, no potty training.”
    Ty grinned. “You wouldn’t miss changing those diapers for anything in the world.”
    Scott’s face, dark bronze from working on construction sites all summer, softened. “Yeah. You know what the squirt said to me when I tucked her in? ‘I love you, Daddy.’ Damn near made me bawl.”
    Ty nodded. “Tell me again you’d like to switch lives.”
    “Point taken. So give it all up. Get married, pop out some kids. Done.”
    Ty wished it were that easy. “I have contracts. Breaking them would be a nightmare. And it would screw over so many people. If it were just me…”
    “You’re always making excuses.”
    Heat pooled under Ty’s collar. “They’re not excuses; they’re contracts. Legally binding contracts. Want me to lose all my money trying to explain to a judge why it was too difficult for me to show up for filming?”
    Scott took a few gulps of his beer. “Fine. If you can’t get out of your contracts, then get yourself a girl. Not one of those bimbos you usually hang around, but someone who doesn’t need air pumped into her regularly to stay upright. You’re thirty-five years old. It’s time to settle down.”
    An image of Ashton Grey flashed through his mind.
    “Dude, you’re blushing.”
    “I’m not blushing,” Ty argued.
    “You are. What are you thinking about? Did you meet someone?”
    “No,” he denied. Ashton Grey wasn’t just anyone. She was a contestant. He was a judge. And there was a little clause in his contract that forbade him from fraternizing with contestants. So, no, Ashton was not someone .
    But he’d been thinking about her ever since they’d met. When he’d first walked into that kitchen and mistaken her for Andrea, hope had flowed through him for the first time in way too long. She was so unlike the women he usually dated. Not conventionally beautiful; her hair was caught somewhere between blond and brunette, and she’d had it in a ponytail, rather than the perfect blown-out coif of his usual dates. She was taller than the average woman, but inches shorter than a model. Her body was lean, not curvy.
    It was her eyes that had drawn him in. The way they widened and sparkled as she looked around the kitchen. They were such a deep blue, like the bottom of the ocean.
    “You’re doing it again.”
    Ty snapped back to attention. He put a hand to his face. Sure enough, it was warm. “Shut up.”
    Scott leaned back until the ottoman popped up and he stretched his legs with a sigh. “Who is she?”
    “No one,” Ty said firmly.
    Because she absolutely couldn’t be anyone.
    Neither, it turned out, could Andrea. Not because his contract forbid it, but because she was an unabashed cougar who had found countless reasons to let her hands roam all over him during their half hour meeting. She’d invited him to her place for “drinks.” He’d made an excuse to leave.
    Still, Scott was right. Ty needed to find a good woman, someone real. It wouldn’t be Ashton Grey, but New York was filled with beautiful, intelligent women. Meeting one should be a piece of cake.

Chapter Three
    The first day of filming, Ashton woke up with a family of butterflies using her belly for a reunion. She lay in bed after her alarm went off, willing herself to calm down.
    The bed next to her was empty. Last night, Jolene had asked her to be roommates, which left poor Elena rooming with Morgan.
    “You’re up.” Jolene stood in the doorway, already dressed and ready to walk the runway. “Jin and Lance are making pancakes for everyone. They’re almost ready.”
    Ashton groaned. “I’m so nervous, I don’t think I can eat a thing.”
    Jolene sat on the edge of the bed. “You need to eat something. Filming takes forever.