Chapter Four
She was lying in a hammock, dozing off, the breeze from the ocean blowing in, keeping her at exactly the right temperature.
Becca sat up and noticed she was completely naked. Oh, shit. She rolled off the hammock, or tried to, but the thing got twisted and dumped her on the hard ground below. It wasn’t until she got to her feet that Becca realized she was surrounded. Beautiful people, tanned and toned—but more importantly, clothed—were all staring at her, pointing and laughing. She covered herself, or tried to, but she didn’t have enough hands.
“A towel? Does anyone have a towel?”
“Here.”
She turned toward the deep voice that spoke from behind her. Calum Price was there, a towel open in his hands.
“Thank you,” she said with relief. “I owe you.” She leaned into him, allowing him to wrap the terry cloth around her body, placing her head against his chest, just beneath his chin, and breathing in deeply of his scent.
Delicious.
“You saved me…”
A voice came from far away. “Hey. Are you having a bad dream?”
Her shoulder was shaken, and Becca opened her eyes. She was still on the plane. Her head was nestled on Calum’s shoulder, and he was peering down at her with flashing eyes and a suppressed smile.
She jerked upright and wiped her mouth and chin with the back of her hand. That’s when she saw the wet stain on the shoulder of Calum’s dark-blue dress shirt.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
Not only had she fallen asleep on his shoulder, she’d drooled all over him. Maybe if she didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t notice. She rubbed her eyes, a low-grade headache building behind them. Too many mimosas. “We almost there?”
“Two hours left.”
Still? God, it was the flight that never ended. She grabbed her flight-approved toiletry bag from her purse and pushed herself to her feet.
“Don’t take too long,” he said. “Because I’m going to be right behind you.”
She glanced at him. Whatever sexual subtext that had infused their conversation earlier had completely disappeared as Cal covered up a yawn, proving to her what she already knew.
He was not into her.
Of course not. Becca wobbled the four seat lengths to the bathroom, pushed on the door and locked it behind her. The woman who stared back at her was a horror: hair flat in places, sticking straight up in others. Her eyes were gluey and bloodshot and her skin pale.
Ugh.
She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Using her fingers, she combed her hair to the best of her ability. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone, anyway.
Just as she unlocked the door, she found Calum standing right outside. “It’s all yours,” she said as she tried to squeeze past him, but he was simply too big for the small space. They did a little side-step dance to make room for each other, when the plane dipped so rapidly, Becca was thrown back inside the cubicle. She cried out in terror only to find Calum had been tossed into the tiny space with her.
As they both scrambled to find footing, the door closed and the pilot’s voice came on over the loudspeaker—for what seemed like the millionth time—instructing passengers to return to their seats.
“Open the door,” Becca cried. “Please. Open the door.”
Calum tried the door, sliding and un-sliding the locking mechanism. “I can’t. It won’t open.”
“Don’t play around. Please. Get that fucking door open.”
He turned around. His expression was not playful, but then, it wasn’t dark and brooding, either. It was something else. “Becca, you need to calm down. The door is jammed. But we’ll figure it out, okay?”
No. It was not okay. This was not fucking okay. While logically, she knew there was ample oxygen in the tiny space, the cramped confines shared with a man who was simply too big for anyone’s good made it seem otherwise, and she gasped for breath, like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing without any relief.
Gentle hands on her shoulders eased her onto the toilet seat, where she automatically dropped her head into her hands. “Just breathe, honey. Nice and slow.” He soothed her bare arms by gently running his hands up and down their length. “In…” He breathed with her. “And out…” His voice was so calm, his tone so deep and consoling that soon Becca found herself listening and following his orders, as if he’d hypnotized her.
Finally, she was able to lift her head, the pinpricks of darkness that had blurred her vision moments ago were gone. Crouching on his haunches, Calum Price gazed at her with genuine compassion. It was that expression that was her undoing.
So, when he leaned forward, whether to find his footing to stand or for some other reason, she leaned forward, too, placed her palm on his stubbled cheek—yes, very sexy after all—and kissed him.
…
The kiss ended almost before it started, so Cal pretended it didn’t happen. Though it had been surprisingly nice.
Once Becca calmed down, he instructed her to crouch on the closed toilet seat to give him more room to work the door. After a couple more attempts, the door folded inward, and they were released.
Once they returned to their seats, Cal turned to Becca, who was pale and obviously still rattled, and pointed to the book. “So, tell me about entanglement theory.”
The next two hours flew by as Becca shared her passion for her line of research. “There are still so many unknowns about the universe. Like, did you know that dark matter and dark energy make up about 95 percent of the universe and we still really don’t know what either of them are?”
Cal was surprised when the plane began its descent. Seated in first class, they disembarked first, though Becca stayed behind to wait for her sister, so he lost sight of her.
The moment Cal stepped off the plane onto the tarmac, he was whisked off by the delegates from Men’s Magazine for a briefing on how the week would proceed, as well as an update on the shooting schedule and the contestants. He was given a dossier containing information on all fifty contestants for his perusal while the producers and directors spoke a mile a minute about the way the week would be run.
“We’ll need to whittle the contestants down immediately. Fifty is too unwieldly for shooting purposes…”
“We’ve highlighted some of the women.” Eddie Johns, the director pointed out the tabbed pages on the binder. “These are the ones we’ve determined will create the most compelling story.”
He flipped through the pages of what might as well have been duplicates of the same woman, photoshopped with varying shades of skin tone and hair color.
Sort of like his last three girlfriends. Christa, Sophie, and Kira. All beautiful. All intelligent. All well practiced in bed, willing to give him whatever they thought he wanted, which made them boring in their predictability. And by predictability, he meant their desire to snag him for the sole purpose of getting access to his bank account. Not one bothered to really get to know him.
Certainly, none of them mocked him.
As he flipped through the pages of perfectly identical smiles on the head shots of the contestants, Cal thought back to how he’d originally considered Becca to be nondescript. But she would have stood out in this selection.
Why?
Her smile?
Her candor?
The light that came into her eyes when she talked about all the unsolved problems in physics? Or was it the fact that she’d seemed genuinely interested in him. Not in a calculating way, but in a frank, wanting-to-get-to-know-him kind of way. He’d told her the abridged version of his life. Growing up in Jersey but leaving out the really personal stuff, like his humble, poverty-level beginnings and what his father did for a living.
Absently, he flipped to another page and came to a blond woman who bore a striking resemblance to Grace Kelly. Her name was even Grace. Grace Evans.
Calum squinted. Wait a second. That was Becca’s sister.
There was almost no similarity between the sisters. Maybe something in the nose…
“Are you interested in her?” Eddie asked. “Because she wasn’t one we were thinking of picking, but we can watch the Twitter feed when we introduce her tomorrow and see if she’s worth holding on to.”
Cal bristled. “I thought the point was for me to choose who I go on the date with.”
A tall, tanned man with a cheeky smile and a shock of blond curls stepped forward. “Hey, man, I’m Kevyn Khan. That’s Kevyn with a Y.” He extended his hand toward Cal, who took it, though it immediately became clear that this was not a simple handshake. More like a male standoff as Kevyn squeezed as if to crush his fingers.
“Maybe you’ve seen my channel on YouTube.” Squeeze. “Hate me or Date me?”
“Nope. Never heard of it.”
Squeeze, pump, squeeze. “I’ve got like fifteen million subscribers.”
Cal smiled, squeezing in return. “And, what are you doing here?”
“I’m the host.” He released Cal’s hand and winked.
Curling his fist barely kept Cal from punching the guy.
“Lotta hot babes in that book.” He pointed to the open dossier. “I’d fuck any one of them.” He squinted at the picture of Grace. “Even that one. She reminds me of someone, got that old-school vibe going on. Innocent looking. But I bet she’s wild in bed. Probably likes bondage and shit.”
Cal stood. He could practically feel his fist flying into Kevyn’s face. “Anything else I need to know? I’d like to unpack, shower, and change.”
“No. Meet and greet tonight, and the show will kick off tomorrow,” Eddie said.
Cal made his way back to the villa where he unpacked, showered, and donned some khaki shorts and a short-sleeved shirt—one that wasn’t stained with drool—before hearing a knock at the door of his villa. A man in his late fifties wearing a white sport coat, fedora, and linen pants stood outside, a golf cart a few feet behind him. It was Jeffrey Reid, the CEO of the resort and the reason why Cal was here.
“You’re right on time,” Cal said, glancing at his watch.
“Such a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Price. As one of our newest investors, I wanted to show you what has been done with some of your capital.”
“Excellent.” Cal shook Jeffrey’s hand. “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”
He climbed into the golf cart beside Jeffrey, who began the tour by circling the perimeter. The resort was everything the brochures promised it would be. There were flowering tropical plants lining walkways amongst palm trees swaying in the wind. And the place had every amenity vacationers could want. Adult pools, hot tubs, multiple bars, private palapas, massage tents, a spa. “If you’re interested, there are secluded natural hot springs just down this path. Locals have made use of them for years, and I was thinking of creating a private oasis for special clients. Do you want to see it?”
“Maybe another time.” While he was impressed with the latest upgrades, the reality was that the cost of running a resort was high: employees, upkeep, entertainment, food. The resort business was also too competitive, and profit margins were miniscule. However, prime real estate like this was rare, and building exclusive executive condos was where the real money was. He had all his own contractors lined up, fees would cover maintenance costs, and then he’d partner with some high-end shops and restaurants to provide amenities.
Cal figured he might keep one or two of the pools, seeing as they’d just been refurbished, but everything else would have to go. He could picture it now, three-story luxury condo units…
…Becca standing in the open doorway of one of the units, her dress blowing in the breeze, her eyes heavy-lidded as she closed the distance between them, her mouth parted, soft and sweet, moving over his…
Whoa.
Where the hell had that thought come from?
Cal gave his head a shake.
“Of course, the beach is the best feature, by far. White coral sands, there’s world class snorkeling and diving just off the west promontory, and on the eastern shore we get grade A waves for surfing—”
“Stop the cart,” Cal said as they drove along the promenade beside the expanse of white sand.
“Did you want to take a picture?” his host asked.
“No. I’m going to get out here.” He unfolded himself from the seat and then leaned back into the opening, extending his hand. “Thank you for the tour. I’m very encouraged by what you’ve shown me.”
“Anytime,” the man said, shaking Cal’s hand enthusiastically. “And, I have to say how very pleased I am to have you here, how excited we are to be hosting this event for Men’s Magazine. It’s good for the resort. And what’s good for the resort is good for your investment, am I right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh, and Mr. Price?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for helping me out with that favor for my friend.”
Cal had almost forgotten. Before signing the contract with Men’s Magazine for the use of the resort, Jeffrey had insisted that the daughter of his friend be invited to participate in the pageant. It was a simple request, one that was easily granted. Cal couldn’t even remember the name of the contestant. “No problem.”
“I have a good feeling about everything, Mr. Price. Enjoy your stay, and if there’s anything I can do, anything at all…”
“I know where to find you.” Cal tapped the hood of the golf cart and stepped back so that the man could drive away. He watched the resort owner’s retreat, feeling nothing. Not even guilt over the fact that once he accumulated the required shares to win the vote at the end of the week, demolition would begin in a matter of months. Maybe even weeks.
Business was business, and he didn’t get where he was by being sentimental.
Cal slipped off his shoes and stepped off the boardwalk onto the sand, still warm from the heat of the day. The sun was moving closer to the horizon, and after checking his watch, he saw he had an hour and a half before he had to be in the conference facility for the meet and greet.
Fucking contest.
His only regret was agreeing to the charade. But, he would do whatever he had to do to secure his investment.
With shoes dangling from his fingertips, he walked along the beach, enjoying the breeze and the warm sand between his toes. Maybe he could mix business with a little pleasure on this trip. Maybe he’d run into Becca again.
He stopped and put a hand to his forehead. A woman approached from the opposite direction, walking in the surf, waves lapping as high as her calves, wetting the bottom of her cotton dress.
Damn, if it wasn’t the very woman he’d just been thinking about.
He jogged to meet her.
“Hey, you,” he said. “You settling in okay?” Were her cheeks pink from the sun or was it him, and why did the thought that he might have caused her to blush give him such pleasure?
“Yeah. Everything’s great.” She removed her sunglasses. “But what are you doing out here? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for the big meet and greet tonight?”
He groaned. He hadn’t meant to, it just slipped out, and then he covered it up by bending over to pick up a seashell.
Once he was upright, he handed it to her. She took it and then nudged him with her shoulder, like a co-conspirator. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.” She regarded him, her hand held to her forehead to block the sun. “What I don’t get is why you agreed to do this thing if you don’t want to do it?”
He glanced down at her. His gaze landed on her mouth. Her lips were parted slightly, and he caught sight of her small pink tongue as she wet her lower lip. Something hot and needy shot up his thighs, causing a tightening in his balls.
“Did you lose a bet?”
“Huh?”
“The contest. This trip. Why are you doing it?”
“Oh.” Cal shook himself out of whatever fog had invaded his brain….and testicles. “My publicist arranged it. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” That was a lie. His publicist had cautioned him against the whole thing, feeling it opened him up for lawsuits from disgruntled women, but Cal had insisted. The publicity was an added distraction that was necessary to secure the final shares before the shareholder vote at the end of the week.
Not that he was going to tell this woman any of that. “It’ll be fun,” he said.
Her single arched brow said she didn’t believe him. Which pleased him, somehow. They walked together in silence, the damp cotton hem of her dress sometimes brushing his lower leg. It wasn’t awkward, it was nice. When she bent to pick up a seashell, he stopped to wait, using the time to check her out. Tiny spaghetti straps were tied at the top of her pale shoulders, where a few freckles were already popping to the surface. The bodice was fitted, and he could see she had a nice figure, athletic, like he’d guessed. Was she wearing a bra? There weren’t any bra straps that he could see.
Why the hell are you thinking about whether she’s wearing a bra?
It was the remnants of their banter from the airplane, obviously. She was just an average woman wearing a cute sundress and a big, floppy hat.
And a gorgeous smile. And…
“Calum?”
“Huh?” He lifted his gaze from where his eyes had fixated on the bodice of her dress.
Becca was standing, looking at him strangely. “What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you looking at my—”
The thunderous sound of a surprisingly huge wave crashing against the sand kept her from asking the question. Thank God. Because the answer would have been, yes, he was staring at her chest.