Chapter Twelve
It was hours later, and Becca lay warm and snug in Cal’s arms, her head against his chest, her body completely relaxed.
Deliciously sore.
“Why is it so important that Grace win this contest?” Cal asked.
Becca stilled. “Why wouldn’t I want her to win? It’s been her dream to become a movie star. I want her to achieve that dream.”
Cal made a rumbling sound deep inside his chest. “So, why do I feel as if there is more to the story?”
Becca was tempted to deny it and to simply say they needed the money. It was a plausible explanation, not to mention, partly true. But after the intimacy they’d shared over the last few days, she felt compelled to tell him more.
“I guess, I’ve always sort of taken care of Grace.”
“Why? Are you her older sister?”
“No. Younger.” Becca sighed and rolled within his arms. “It’ll sound weird and won’t make sense.”
“Try me.”
To the lazily turning ceiling fan, she said, “I’m moving to New York City in September because I was offered a position at Cornell in their Physics Department, and I haven’t told Grace yet.”
“Why haven’t you told her?”
“Because I’m worried about her. We’ve never been apart.”
“So, you’re like her guardian angel?”
She smacked his bare chest. “I’m certainly no angel.” She propped herself up on his chest, gazing into his face.
“If angels are pure and innocent, then no, you are not.” His hand cupped her ass, squeezing. “But you have shown me a piece of heaven…so maybe you are.”
Becca laughed before lowering herself to kiss him. “Anyway,” she said. “I guess I was hoping that if she won this contest, she wouldn’t need me as much. You know?”
She looked away.
He tilted her chin so that he could look directly into her eyes. “And why do you feel like Grace needs you so badly?”
Something stirred deep inside of her, something she’d never felt before. It was like Cal had some deep connection to her soul that enabled him to truly see her.
She tried to turn away because she couldn’t let him see what lay hidden down there.
“What?” Cal asked, holding her chin in place. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”
She’d never been with a man who read her so well.
“Come on, Bec. If you can trust me with your pleasure, you can trust me with this.”
She rolled so that she was on her back beside Cal. She’d never even been tempted to tell anyone else the story; it was too humiliating. But now, strangely, she wanted to tell Cal the truth. Or at least, the partial truth. “It was back in high school. There was this guy—one of the popular kids.”
“What happened?” While soft, Cal’s voice had a rough quality that strummed a cord in her chest.
“He asked…Grace out.” It was a lie, he’d asked her out.
But, imagining it was Grace made the story easier to tell. “They went on a date, and he told her that if she did…certain things…he’d take her to prom.”
Cal growled.
“He recorded her.”
“Fucker.”
“Put it online the next day.”
“Jesus.”
“He and his friends had all done the same thing. Dated girls they thought were ‘easy targets’ and then created this site called Things Girls Will Do for Prom Dates.”
He rolled toward her, stroking her shoulder. “Assholes.”
“Yeah, well.” Her throat was thick when she swallowed. “They weren’t so stupid as to use faces, but still…” It was after that incident, after Becca had been fooled and used by Kevyn, that she realized how Grace—her sweet, trusting, and incredibly naive sister—would never be safe from the machinations of a certain kind of man and vowed to protect her from the Kevyn Wasinskis of the world.
Becca cleared her throat. “Grace showed me the next day, and I created a virus that infected any computer that downloaded the video.”
His hand stilled. There was admiration in his voice when he said, “Of course you did.”
“Unfortunately, Grace has dated the same kind of loser ever since. So, I look out for her.”
Becca’s fears had indeed come to fruition, and although the story she’d just shared wasn’t the complete truth, this was the closest she’d ever come to revealing everything.
Becca had tears in her eyes, but she didn’t care. She stroked the stubble on Cal’s cheek—not so high maintenance after all and definitely super, fucking sexy—and realized that Calum Price was the first man she’d trusted enough to share even a bit of the truth.
The gravity of her pseudo-confession overwhelmed her, and Becca needed to create a little levity. “There is a third reason I want Grace to win the contest,” Becca said, her voice still thick with emotion.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Because I don’t want anyone else going on a date with you…to fucking Paris.” She wanted it to sound light and joking, but it came out sounding much more choked up than she’d intended.
He didn’t respond, only curled his arms around her shoulders and held her tightly. Becca lay there, feeling safe and cared for, the sound of Cal’s heart beating softly against her cheek.
Cal said something—it was so soft she wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly—but she thought it was something about her being the only one he wanted to go to Paris with.
And even though Becca was no longer that naive teenager and she knew that whatever was happening between her and Calum couldn’t last, in that moment, she let herself believe him.
…
Calum was thankful for the canopy suspended over the event stage blocking out the late-afternoon sun. The sky above was cloudless, the wind almost non-existent, and after spending the morning on the water for surf lessons, Cal was feeling the effects of the sun. From the stifled yawns and the red noses that even makeup couldn’t mask, the contestants were feeling it, too.
But, as Eddie reminded them all, the show must go on.
Though Cal wasn’t thinking of the “show.” He was thinking of the conversation he’d had with Becca last night. How was this contest any different from what her sister had endured in high school?
He’d asked her that question last night. “Surely you see the similarity. Women all vying to go on a date with me. Not because they like me, but for the sake of the date. Allowing themselves to be taken advantage of.”
“Sure, there’s a similarity,” Becca had replied slowly. “But there are also big differences. The most glaring is that all your potential dates chose to be here. They weren’t tricked, and they aren’t being humiliated and laughed at. They have their own agendas, whether it’s five minutes of fame or the hope of getting a modeling or acting gig afterwards. They have all done it willingly.”
“You forgot to mention the girls might actually want to date me,” he’d joked. “I am part of the prize pack, don’t forget.”
“How can I forget that you’re going to Paris for five days with someone else?” Becca had flopped dejected onto her back, trying to make light of it, but he’d been able to see it bothered her.
It bothered him, too.
“Grace really likes you, you know.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope. Apparently, she thinks you’re super hot, super nice and she’d super like to go to Paris with you.”
“That’s very sweet.”
“Yeah, well, she’s very sweet. Which is why I am, without doubt, the worst sister in the world.”
Now, sitting across from the remaining six women in the contest, Cal felt the disconnect of where he was—sitting on a stage, waiting for the next contest to start—and where he wanted to be. With Becca.
He focused on Grace, who sat primly on her stool, smiling that shy smile, wearing the same flower she’d worn every day, pulling her hair back on one side. Even though the sisters did not resemble each other, the sight of Grace brought Becca to mind.
Or, she’s just always on your mind.
“Okay, people,” Eddie’s assistant, Jeanette, called. “We’re going live in ten…nine…”
The crowd hummed, and Kevyn appeared, climbing the steps up to the stage. “Hey, everybody! Welcome back to the second challenge on the third day of competition here at Playground of Paradise Bay Resort…”
Cal smiled at the women—as instructed from the earlier briefing—while he waited for Kevyn to finish his spiel.
“…all these women are hoping to win a date with Mr. Sexy, Mr. Physically Fit, Mr. Calum Price!”
Kill me now.
Cal pushed himself to his feet and waved.
“All right, folks. Who’s in the mood for fun?” Kevyn shouted.
The crowd clapped appreciatively.
“Who’s in the mood for something a little daring?”
Whoops and whistles joined the applause.
Kevyn dropped his voice an octave. “Who’s in the mood for something a little…naughty?”
Catcalls, whistles, cheers.
“For this challenge, we’re going to get all three. This challenge is called ‘Sext Me if You Can.’ Calum is going to choose random slips of paper from this bowl, all texts to you.” He pointed to the contestants. “You ladies need to write sexy texts in response. Remember, we will bleep out bad language and body parts, so be sexy, but be subtle.”
More whoops and whistles.
“Now, here’s how the contest works. All of the texts will show up on this screen.” Keyvn pointed to the massive screen behind the stage. “And Cal has to try to guess who sent which text. If Cal guesses correctly, that contestant is eliminated from the rest of the challenge. The only thing that will save them is if the viewers watching live choose that particular text as their favorite.”
Kevyn waited for the applause to die down. He tossed his hair and then addressed the women. “Are you ready, ladies?”
There were nods and shouts from the panel of women.
“Mr. Price?”
“I’m ready, Kevyn.” Cal tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, but based on Kevyn’s subtle response—flared nostrils—he may not have been successful.
“Then, let’s begin. First question is…” Kevyn held out a coconut shell with slips of paper inside.
Cal withdrew a slip of paper. “I’m at the grocery store buying food to make a romantic dinner. I text: At the store. What do you want me to pick up?”
“You’ve got two minutes to respond, ladies. Go.”
Cal watched the faces of the women closely. Most thought for only a second before focusing on the tablet in front of them, tapping away at the keys. Grace was the only one still sitting, peering off into the distance. Her lips moved—was that a family trait?—until finally she focused on the tablet and began to write.
When time was up, Kevyn called for all the ladies to hit send if they hadn’t already. He took great pleasure in reading out the responses. But while the responses were read—all basically the same sexual connotations about food: Chocolate sauce, whipped cream and cherries. I’ll be your dessert, and you can be mine, as well as Rope and coconut oil. You can tie me down and eat me —Calum watched the contestants, because it was their expressions that gave them away when their sext had been read. And Cal knew exactly who had sent which text. What surprised him the most was that Grace cringed when her text was read. Doesn’t matter what you pick up because the real cooking is going to happen later…between the sheets.
Interesting.
…
Sitting up in the room, drinking a Banana Mama she’d ordered from room service—a yummy, chocolatey banana drink she’d fallen in love with—Becca had her operations station in full swing: laptop open, the sexting competition streaming while she gave Grace instructions for the latest sext. Becca now had even more reason for wanting Grace to win. She hadn’t been joking yesterday. The thought of Calum going anywhere with any one of those other women gave her acid indigestion.
She stared at the Banana Mama in her hand. Could be the crème de cacao…
Cal had already identified the sexts from two of the women, knocking them out of the contest, so Grace was one of the four left.
With straw in mouth, Becca watched as Calum drew another slip of paper from a bowl. “I send you a picture of me straddling my Harley with the text: I’ve shown you mine, now you show me yours.”
Show me yours? Immediately an image of a cat appeared in Becca’s mind—a pussy cat—is that what everyone else would be thinking, too? She discarded the image, wanting something a little less crass. Hmm…Harleys rumbled. Vibrated. A vibrator… Her mind searched for something clever yet sexy.
“Da dum, da dum…” Grace hummed the theme song to Jeopardy, alerting Becca to the fact that time was ticking.
“Not helping,” Becca muttered as she Googled household items that vibrate. An image of a washing machine came up.
“Okay,” she said into the phone. “Write: Me wearing short shorts, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat in hand, riding the washing machine like it’s an angry bull. The caption: Good, good, good…good vibrations.”
“Seriously?” Grace whispered. “I would never say or do…”
“Grace! The whole point of this is to write things that Calum won’t think you’d write. It’s like sexy Balderdash.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
Becca slapped her forehead. “No more talking!” How she and Grace’s little system hadn’t been discovered was a mystery to Becca. Her sister just could not keep her mouth closed. “Just write it.”
Becca leaned toward the screen, slurping the last of her drink as Kevyn—the asshole—Khan read out the replies. There was a certain amount of satisfaction to be had by watching Cal’s expression of amusement when Grace’s text was read.
He correctly identified another two of the women, leaving Grace and Cindy as the only contestants left in the Sext Me if you Can contest.
“Final question,” Kevyn announced. “And ladies, whoever wins, you get to have dinner—exclusively—with the man of the hour.”
Cal’s head whipped toward Kevyn. The angle of the camera kept his features hidden, but Becca could guess.
He’d had no idea.
This pleased her, even though the idea of Cal spending a romantic evening with the brunette beauty, Cindy, curdled the Banana Mama in the pit of her stomach.
“That’s right, ladies. So, make this good, because our viewers are going to get to pick the winning sext.” Kevyn sent an apologetic grin Cal’s way. “I’m sure you’re okay with that, aren’t you, Cal? Look at these women.” He swept a hand in Grace and Cindy’s direction. “Both are gorgeous, smart, and based on their sexting ability, will make great conversationalists at dinner.”
“Wonderful.” Cal smiled, but Becca knew the difference between a genuine smile and a fake one. This one was definitely fake, which gave her some semblance of relief. However, watching Cal on a date with Cindy was not going to happen, and she rubbed her hands together in preparation for the last sext.
He drew a slip from the bowl, read it—his lips moved, and Becca’s heart melted—and then he read it aloud. “It’s midday, and I text: I’m taking the afternoon off. What do you want to do?’ To which you reply?”
Becca gnawed on her lip. This was no longer about making it sound like it was not coming from Grace. It was about making it as sexy as possible so that the viewers would choose it. But how?
Grace cleared her throat. Loudly.
“I know, I know. Give me a second.”
Grace coughed.
Becca’s mind went blank. There was too much at stake. “Grace, just write something. Write what you’d normally say so that you have something. In the meantime, I’ll try to come up with something, too.”
But instead of racking her brain for ideas, Becca watched the feed and was relieved to see Grace bending over her tablet, using one manicured finger to type out a message.
“Time’s up,” Kevyn shouted with a wave of his arms.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Becca whispered. “I let you down. I just couldn’t come up with anything.”
“Okay, ladies, let’s see what you wrote. And we’ll let our viewers decide who wins.
Calum reread the situation on the slip of paper and the sexts came up on the jumbotron.
“You bring the banana, I’ll bring the cream, and we’ll whip up a little afternoon delight.”
Oh God. So cheesy. Was that Grace’s? Becca couldn’t tell.
“And the second one…”
“I’ve mowed the lawn, trimmed the hedges, and am laying out a blanket in the back. All you have to do is come.”
The crowd roared its approval.
Grace beamed, which gave the text away as hers.
Becca gaped. She rubbed her temples. Grace’s text was brilliant because of the sexual subtext—mowing the lawn (grooming her girlie parts), laying out a blanket in the back (suggesting sex, possibly even anal sex)—but Becca knew beyond a doubt that Grace had not intended her text to be a double entendre. She’d meant it literally, hoping that a man would find it sexy that she wanted to do his chores and take care of him.
“And the winner of the contest is…Grace Evans. You are invited on a romantic dinner on the beach tonight with Calum Price. Congratulations.”