Chapter Eight
Cal had only been told about the mud wrestling last night, and his concern that the event was demeaning was overturned after the completion of the first few matches. While beautiful and poised in heels, the women transformed in the ring.
They became wild. Vicious. Cutthroat.
There seemed to be no rules, and the contestants embraced that fact by pulling hair, pushing, tripping, rubbing mud in their opponents’ faces, all while being encouraged by Kevyn as he commentated on the spectacle.
“Ouch, Cindy isn’t so sweet, after all. You go, girl! That was quite a takedown!”
The bell sounded, bringing the tenth bout to an end, and Cal declared the winner—Cindy Lowrie—after which the contestants were escorted in opposite directions to shower off.
The losers were escorted to the spa to join the other women who’d been eliminated that day, while the winners were told to return to their villas to change for dinner with Cal that night.
To say Men’s Magazine was pushing the boundaries with this contest was an understatement, but then, Cal wasn’t big into watching reality TV. Eddie, the producer, had informed him that the live feed, the unexpected turn of events, the cutthroat competitions were all about snagging viewers and increasing Men’s Magazine’s online subscription.
As a businessman, Cal had to admit it was a clever marketing strategy.
As a heterosexual male, his libido enjoyed the show, albeit involuntarily.
As a man who had been brought up by a loving woman who had drilled it into his head to respect women, he had a huge fucking problem with it.
“Just so you know,” Eddie said, patting Cal’s shoulder, “we have almost two million viewers watching this live. You’re a fucking hit, man.”
“Awesome,” Cal said with no enthusiasm.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re already onto the final match of the day. Have you been enjoying the show?”
A roar erupted from the crowd.
Kevyn held up a hand to silence them. “Okay. Let’s get on with it, then. In the pink bikini, we have Kaitlyn Jones. Her challenger, in the black-and-red bathing suit, is Grace Evans. Are you ready, ladies?”
Cal leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands pressed together beneath his chin. How would Becca’s sister fare in the ring? She appeared as poised as ever, though her eyes kept darting to one side. Cal turned his head to find Becca there, leaning against the roped partition, her lips moving as if talking to herself.
“Ready? Here we go!”
A bell sounded, and the tall dark-haired woman, Kaitlyn, circled Grace who stood completely still in the center of the ring, watching Kaitlyn warily. So, when Kaitlyn launched herself at the other woman, wrapping her arms around Grace’s waist, Grace simply bent her knees and stood there, taking it until Kaitlyn ended up slipping and falling. She growled and got up, charging Grace from the side. Grace did nothing more than step out of the way, causing Kaitlyn to fly past, lose her balance, and skid halfway across the muddy ring on her stomach.
“You bitch!” Kaitlyn shouted, righting herself and picking up a handful of mud which she slung at Grace, who simply stood there, allowing the missile to strike the center of her chest. The mud slid down her cleavage, leaving a slug-like streak in its wake.
“One minute remaining,” Kevyn called.
With an Amazonian howl, the dark-haired woman charged, jumping on Grace’s back, wrapping her arms and legs around Grace’s body, doing her best to topple the immovable woman. At first Cal thought Grace might be able to withstand the banshee clawing at her back, but the slippery footing was too much, and Grace wobbled just as Kaitlyn pulled her hair. The rest happened in slow motion—Grace’s arms circled like a cartoon character as she lost her balance, falling backwards. Right on top of Kaitlyn.
The bell sounded.
The match was over.
Grace climbed to her feet and extended a hand to the mud-covered Kaitlyn, who took it only so she could haul her back down into the mud. Or at least, that’s what she attempted to do, but her hand was too slippery and the force she exerted backfired, so that she landed on her ass with a magnificent splat.
“The winner of this round is Grace Evans,” Cal said. “Interesting technique, Grace.”
She shrugged up at him, with that same demure smile lighting her features. “I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
The crowd went wild at that statement, and even over the raucous din, Cal was sure he heard Becca whoop in excitement.
“My God,” Eddie said softly in his ear. “She’s a natural and a crowd favorite. Good call keeping her. Now that we’re at twelve, she’ll be here until the end.”
So much for the contract terms demanding he treat all women fairly and equitably.
…
“Great job,” Becca whispered excitedly into the phone, making sure there was no one close enough to hear her. “You were amazing in there. Thanks for keeping the micro bud and flower out of the mud.”
“I didn’t want to fight anyway,” Grace whispered in reply, the sound of the outdoor shower making her hard to hear.
“That last line was perfect,” Becca added.
“Thanks to you.” The running water stopped, and Becca overheard an event coordinator informing Grace she could go change for dinner on the beach.
“Don’t change,” Becca said quickly.
“What?” Grace whispered. “I’m all wet.”
The woman thought Grace was speaking to her, and Becca heard her saying, “Here’s a robe you can wear back to your room.” From where Becca stood, she could see the woman handing Grace a terrycloth robe.
“Listen to me. Your hair looks good wet, and your makeup is fine. If you go now, you’ll be the last to return and will end up sitting farthest away from Calum. Just wear the robe the resort gave you and go find him. The one-on-one time you’ll get will be worth it.”
“But—” Grace argued.
“Shh. No more talking, Grace. You promised to listen. I’m telling you, he’ll respect you for being more interested in getting to know him than worried about your appearance.”
There was a grumbling sound on the other end, and then Becca heard Grace ask the woman if she could just sit down, as is. “I’m starving,” Grace explained. Which was likely the truth. Grace loved food. And she’d been lucky enough to have been blessed with an incredibly high metabolism.
“Absolutely, Ms. Evans. This way.”
Becca moved closer to the barrier that separated the contestants from the general populace of the resort. Most of the spectators had departed because the “show” was on a break as the women all returned to their rooms to regroup. Becca felt like a moth, flitting around an outdoor flame, needing to get close but held back by forces beyond her control.
“Hey.”
She jumped. Turned. Calum stood two feet away, a serious expression on his face. Shit. Had he overheard her?
“Hey, yourself,” she said, her smile feeling weird. “What are you doing outside of the ‘wall’?” She indicated the barricade with a wave of her hand. Then glanced behind him. “And where’s your posse?”
“My posse?”
“Camera peeps, makeup, organizers.”
“I needed a break.”
She nodded. “I get it.”
“Walk with me.”
Oh, fuck.
“I don’t think…”
He slid a hand beneath her elbow to turn her in the opposite direction, but with only that minimal contact, she flinched, jerking her elbow away. It was such a visceral reaction. Every nerve in her body fired at once, causing the muscles to contract. It was as if she really was that moth and had gotten too close to the flame, every cell in her lighting up before falling dead to the ground.
She did not—thankfully—fall to the ground, but her cell phone did
“Sorry,” he said, bending to reach for the phone on the sand.
Flustered, Becca made a grab for the phone before he had a chance to look at the screen. Was the spyware app still up, or had her screen gone dark? She didn’t bother to check but tucked the phone into her bag and looked up at him. “Shouldn’t you be in there?” She pointed to the tables on the other side of the stage. “Getting ready for the beach barbeque?”
“We have to wait for all the contestants to get back.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “Who knows when that will be. In the meantime, I wouldn’t mind walking with someone I actually enjoy talking to.” He smiled down at her. “Plus, I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since you slipped out last night.” His eyes sparkled with sin. Delicious carnal thoughts shone through.
And Becca melted. It was like her stomach lining was made of wax and it had gone soft, leaving warm pools inside her tummy and sending rays of heat up her esophagus and down to the lowest reaches of her belly.
She’d known the man a mere twenty-four hours. How was it possible to react to him like this? “Look,” she said, wetting her lips because they’d suddenly gone dry. “I had a great time last night—”
“So did I.” He grabbed her hand this time. “So, why do I get the feeling there’s a ‘but’ coming next?”
“There is a ‘but,’” Becca said, turning toward the ocean and releasing his hand in the process, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d only been fantasizing about Cal’s touch all day. “You know there is.”
“What? The contest?”
“Yes. Of course. Look.” She pointed to where her sister was seated, by herself, wearing only the white robe. “Grace is over there waiting for you.”
“She didn’t go change?”
“No. She’s waiting for you. Grace isn’t just about her appearance, you know. She’s very sweet. I think you’d like her if you got to know her.”
His gaze narrowed as he studied Becca’s face in the sunlight. Her already warm skin just became warmer.
“Why are you trying to set me up with your sister?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? And how to answer it in a way that would make sense to Calum Price? “Because you seem like a good man, and Grace deserves a good man.”
Calum leaned forward, gazing directly into her eyes. “What about you?”
Becca moved back. “What about me?”
“What do you deserve?”
“I have everything I need.”
“Do you?”
He slid closer, forcing Becca to tilt her head back so she could look up at him. Her stomach reeled, her fingers twitched, and her lungs fought for air.
“Because I can tell you, I was pretty convinced you needed me last night.”
“What do you mean?”
He lowered his voice. “I believe your exact words were, ‘Oh God. I fucking need you right now.’”
A lump of oxygen became lodged in Becca’s throat. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not?”
Oh, such a good question. And, at the moment, Becca didn’t have the answer. Or, at the very least, the answer didn’t seem very substantial.
“Becca, I don’t care about the contest.”
Becca swallowed. Or, she tried to but was unsuccessful. She tried again. Her inability to swallow made it impossible to reply.
“I know we just met, but the connection between us is strong. I feel it, and so do you.”
She opened her mouth, but still, nothing came out. Why the hell was her mouth so dry?
Calum closed the distance between them. He brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes and grazed her cheekbone with the back of his knuckles. “In fact, you’re feeling it right now. I can see it in your face.”
His knuckles slid down, brushing her jaw. “I like you, Becca. You’re…different.”
How could it be that Calum-fucking-Price was saying the exact words she’d fantasized about hearing from a man all her adult life?
Why him?
Why now?
She turned her face away. This was wrong. Calum wasn’t supposed to like her—he was the star of the show, and her whole purpose for being on the island was to help her sister win the contest…which would mean she’d be flying off on a romantic weekend with him to Paris. It was too…complicated, no matter how many times he’d made her come last night, no matter how hot he made her skin blaze, sucking the moisture from her mouth while simultaneously making her girl parts wet.
“You know where my villa is. I’ll be there tonight. After ten. Come see me.” Then he leaned close, as if he might kiss her but stopped, leaving an indecent distance between them. “I hope you’ll come.” He gave her hip a final squeeze before heading back toward the beach where barbeques were already smoking in preparation for the dinner on the beach.
Becca watched him go while her belly churned. One question repeated over and over in her mind.
Does it really matter?
Cal was a grown man and she was a grown woman who shared some pretty fantastic chemistry. And last night, he’d taken her to places she’d never been before. He’d done things she’d only fantasized about.
She wanted more.
Did that make her the worst sister on the planet? If it meant jeopardizing her sister’s chances of winning, then, yes. But maybe, just maybe, she could have both things.
She fit the Bluetooth into her ear and tapped on the app.
“Can you hear me, Bec? Come in.”
“I’m right here.”
“I see you. I’ve been sitting here in this stupid robe for fifteen minutes and…”
“Grace. No more talking.”
“Oh, never mind, here comes Calum now.” Grace’s whisper was loud with excitement. “Oh my God, he’s going to sit with me.”
“No more talking…” Becca whispered, making her way down a quiet corridor. “Okay, Grace. Play it cool.”
“Mmhmm…”
“And, first rule of being a good conversationalist?”
“Mmm?”
“Ask about him.”
Through the microphone, Becca could hear Cal asking if he could join Grace.
“Absolutely,” Grace gushed.
“Grace. Be calm and a little aloof. Think of Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca,” Becca instructed.
“Oh, I love Ingrid Bergman,” Grace cooed.
Shit!
“You like old movies?” Calum asked, obviously thinking Grace was speaking to him.
Becca squeezed the bridge of her nose. No matter how many times they’d done this, her sister just could not seem to get a handle on the fact that she wasn’t supposed to reply to Becca’s instructions.
“Yes, I love them,” Grace replied. “My sister and I watch them all the time.”
“Really?” His voice was suddenly clearer, like he’d leaned toward her. “What’s your favorite?”
“Oh, gosh. I don’t know where to start. I mean, my favorite is probably the whole Star Wars series.”
“Star Wars?”
Becca could hear the startled amusement in Cal’s voice, even through the earpiece. “He’s talking about classic movies, Grace.”
“Star Wars is a classic. The original three, anyway.”
Palm to face.
“You’re right.” Cal coughed as if covering up a laugh. “Those ones were really good.”
“Right? So far ahead of their time.”
“Grace, talk about some of the other ones. You know, like Breakfast at Tiffany’s, An Affair to Remember, Casablanca…”
“Oh,” Grace said, as if just receiving an epiphany. “But I also like other classic movies. Have you ever seen Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”
Becca sat down on a bench beneath a palm tree, listening to her sister go on about Audrey Hepburn. At least this was a conversation Grace could manage on her own.
Why was it that she’d finally met a man worthy of her sister…except that the guy in question actually—miraculously—liked her?
Worse, she liked him. A lot.
The universe was seriously fucked up.