“What?” I hissed.
Max sighed. “I need you to either bend over or get down on your haunches, I figured bending over would be better, trust me, it’s not like anyone can see you. Well except, me, Reid, the film crew, and Rex, though to be fair I think he’s blind in his right eye from all that twitching it keeps doing. Oh, and there’s also Little G, he’s in my pocket, and the goat who’s watching us creepily from the trees, and always the possibility of sharks and—”
“Fine!” I snapped. “Fine, which direction do I bend?”
Max sighed. “If we were alone you wouldn’t have to ask me that . . .”
I licked my lips.
“Pity,” he whispered in my ear. Something touched my ear, his tongue? His hands moved all the way down both legs, until finally he picked up my foot and moved it to the yellow dot and then instructed me, once again, in a silky smooth voice, to bend over. What? “Bend down to your right, place your right hand and right foot exactly where I tell you. Yellow.”
I hated that my body heated at the sensual sound of his low voice.
It was the blindfold and humidity and, well, the lingering picture I had of him and his nakedness. NOTHING more.
“This okay?” I breathed.
“I’d say more than okay.” He laughed softly and moved away. And so went the next hour. I’d love to say it got easier, but really, it was what I imagined hell was like.
For one, it was hot, and I was so sweaty that my shirt was sticking to my body like a second skin. Sweat kept dripping from my arms and legs—it wasn’t like I was a gymnast or anything! And there was no way to know how many girls were left because Max had distracted me so much with his words and touching that I hadn’t kept track!
“And now our Bachelor will join you. Blindfolds off,” Rex commanded.
Finally I peeled off my blindfold and threw it onto the sand. The girls who were left were not the girls I would have picked.
He’d kept the girls he’d originally made fun of. Doc, Amazon, Grumpy, Sneezy, and me. But why keep the girls who scared him? Or the ones who made him want to run and hide?
I didn’t have any more time to wonder. Because in an instant Max was placed in the midst of all five of us and the game continued. Only this time he was going to be in the giant pretzel with us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAX
If the roles had been reversed and I had been at home watching this on TV, I would have probably thought, “Lucky bastard.” By any guy’s standards I was standing in Eden. Every man’s utopia. Not only had I just touched fifteen attractive women (according to those who would be watching), but I was smack-dab in the middle of them. They were in bikinis, short shorts, and tank tops, and they were sweaty. And I was the king of their island, for now.
All right, so this is where those rose-colored glasses come off. Don’t be envious, you poor couch potato, as you drink your Coke Zero and eat another Twizzler, wishing it were you who had won the chance to be stuck on the Island. Go ahead, eat another chip. I’ll wait.
You ready? Because I’m about to shatter your beliefs with one single fact.
I know what these girls eat.
Because when you’re on a dating show you want to look your best, right? Take Amazon, the pine nut queen: men, are you aware of what a high-protein, no-carb diet does to the human body? By the looks of your potato-chip-and-Twizzler diet, that’s a hell, no. Well, let me tell you.
High protein.
Low fat.
Low carb.
Equals trouble.
Also known as intestinal . . . rockiness. Yes, let’s call it rockiness. So the very fact that I have to bend over and stuff my face in all their goodies? Not my favorite thought, not at all. I know what Amazon eats at night. I know what she does with those hands—she crushes nuts and devours them.
And no way do I want my body or my nostrils for that matter anywhere near her ass when she puts her hand on yellow or red. Or damn. Let’s just strike out all colors.
I want Amazon colorless. And odorless, but hey, we can’t win ’em all, can we?
“Max,” Rex shouted. “Right hand, green.” I was already standing on green, so I leaned forward and placed my hand on the sand.
“Gina, left foot, green.”
Helllllll.
Gina smirked at me and placed her foot right underneath my legs. Really, bitch? Couldn’t you have chosen the green spot in front of or behind me? My eyes narrowed, hers matched mine. I mouthed, “Challenge accepted.”
She mouthed, “Bring it.”
“Becca, right foot . . . well, isn’t that the craziest thing, green!”
Hmm, this smelled suspiciously like a setup.
Becca eyed me and then moved her right foot directly in front of my hand. Hey, at least I’d be staring at her ass for the next hour or so.
After ten minutes Amazon made a fatal error and scratched her forehead, her balance was compromised. She fell to the earth much like I imagine Goliath fell to the ground once David shot his head with a rock. Swear the ground shook for a minute as she yelled, “Noooo,” in slow motion. Honest moment, I may have given her a little . . . push. Hey, you would too, don’t judge me, man. Eat another chip and thank your lucky stars you aren’t going on a date with her tonight. She fishes with her bare hands and doesn’t shave her legs, and probably beats her bed partners into submission and not the good kind, feel me?
Another girl went down. Poor Sneezy. It wasn’t her fault. I’m pretty sure she passed out from low blood sugar and dehydration. Mental note: get her a cookie.
Finally, after another one hit the sand, it was just me, Becca, and Grumpy.
“Becca, right hand, blue.”
Becca was still right in front of me but putting her right hand on blue basically meant her ass was going to be pointing toward the sky and her arms would be spread so wide her shoulders were going to hurt for days. With a grunt she moved. Her head was upside down, and she peered at me through her legs.
“Hey, girl,” I joked.
Her eyes flared with what I could only assume was hostility. I almost backed up, but I wasn’t a fan of losing anything and I figured being a man and all, I would be letting down my entire gender if Grumpy and Becca beat me.
Lose to a woman? I think not. I don’t roll that way. Come hell or high water, I would win.
Milo would be so proud.
“Max, right hand, red.” Ha, okay, well, that was going to be a difficult maneuver. Damn it! Why hadn’t I read that Kama Sutra book? Seriously, it would have come in handy, didn’t it teach people how to bend better during sex? With a grunt I moved underneath Becca and flipped around so that I was literally getting straddled by her—but hey, I made it.
Her eyes narrowed even more as she glared at me. Safe to say she’d jumped off the “this is fun” train, and was heading straight to the “Twister equals hell” train.
“You have pretty eyes,” I whispered, while Grumpy got her coordinates.
“Max.” Teeth clenched, Becca whimpered, “You’re not helping.”
“I like this position,” I continued, my eyes roaming over her body. “White bikini? Sexy.”
“Max . . .” her voice warned, but her eyes told me something else completely.
A bead of sweat fell from her chin and landed right next to my mouth. I reached out my tongue and tasted the salty sweetness, letting out a little groan. “Damn, you taste good too. Even your sweat tastes like honey.”
Her mouth opened and then closed.
“At a loss for words?” I taunted.
“Stop distracting me.”
“This isn’t me distracting you. Believe me, if I was distracting you I’d do a hell of lot better job than licking your sweat and imagining all the fun Twister positions I could get you in.”
“Ah!” Grumpy yelled, and then fell onto her ass.
“Winners!” Rex yelled just as Becca gave out and landed on top of me. I fell onto my back, catching her as her legs straddled my waist.
/>
I wanted to kiss her so bad it almost hurt. Her body felt so good wrapped around mine.
Either she was a mind reader or my thoughts were written all over my guilty face. She pushed away from me, nearly kneeing me in the balls, and wiped the sand off her sweaty body.
“Wow!” Rex chuckled. “We’ve got ourselves a lead after only two days! Becca, a date tonight and tomorrow morning! Someone better step up or this competition’s going to be a sweep!”
Becca’s worried eyes darted around the group. The other contestants began whispering behind their hands, their eyes growing more hostile by the second.
Oh, shit, if someone beat her, or worse yet, if she lost a game and had to go home . . . I hadn’t thought ahead enough. Chart. I needed to learn the girls’ names, their weakness and strengths, and make a chart.
It was the only way to keep the girls straight and make sure I knew how to beat them—so I could keep the one I really wanted. Just this morning I’d decided she was a challenge, something I hadn’t had in a really long time. But now I needed her to stay for more than just my sanity—I needed her to stay because I liked her. Plain and simple.
My mind flickered back to memories of our kiss. She’d tasted so good I’d wanted to weep with desire for just one more morsel of what she had to offer.
Body aching, I wiped off the remaining sand and walked toward my hut. Charts first, seduction second.
Only I didn’t notice that I was being followed, not until it was too late.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BECCA
Being so close to Max had thrown me off mentally and physically. I needed to get away—fast. I scrambled toward the shore peeled off my sweat-soaked shorts and T-shirt, and waded into the warm water.
“So . . .” Reid’s voice penetrated my Max-filled thoughts. “You were the winner again. How’s it feel?” The camera was pointed in my face and Reid was standing behind it and to the side, where the water reached his knees. So he was talking to me as one of the assistants, not Max’s brother, a relationship I’d only recently learned about when Reid had slipped up off-camera and actually claimed the guy. I should have caught it sooner; they both had sexy eyes and mouth-watering smiles. Odd that Max hadn’t brought it up before, then again, I wasn’t anything to him yet . . . was I?
“Good.” I looked away from the camera and waded farther into the water. “I came here to win and that’s what I’m doing.” But was it only about winning anymore? I glanced back at Max and shivered.
“And the other girls? Are you worried they’ll try to distract the Bachelor in any way or possibly even try to win his affection?”
I snorted with laughter, hoping the camera wouldn’t see through my insecurity. The last thing I wanted was to lose the money . . . or the budding friendship I was developing with Max. “No.”
“Whoa.” Reid’s eyebrows drew together as he pointed back toward the shore. “Even now?”
Max was locking lips with Doc.
REALLY? Doc, of all people? He couldn’t have at least chosen Sneezy?
I mean at least Sneezy seemed frail and insecure and . . .
Doc was . . .
I quickly looked away. Reid’s eyes lit up a little too much for my liking. “He can do what he wants.” I shrugged, irritated that I had a lump in my throat. Never once had it occurred to me that I’d get attached to Max or that I’d be pissed when I saw him with other girls.
School. My brain reminded me. I was there for money and for school, not Max. He was just . . . an added bonus, a nice added bonus, but also a distraction I didn’t need. Right?
“Interesting.” Reid cleared his throat. “All right, we’re done for now.” He sent the camera crew away but stayed where he was. “You holding up?”
“Of course!” I said it way too fast. Licking my lips, I looked down at the water. “It’s not like I own him or anything. I mean he’s the Bachelor and it’s part of the show, right?”
“Right. Actually I meant how are you holding up after playing the game and most likely suffering from dehydration.” Reid examined me for a minute, as if he were studying my expressions and trying to decipher me. “But since we’re talking about it, off the record, do you actually . . . oh, God, I can’t believe I’m asking this, do you actually like him?”
“No!” I snorted, almost choking on the word. “I mean, no, he’s . . . he’s—”
“Max,” Reid finished slowly. “But he’s also pretty damn hard to forget. I imagine in another life he was a leech—or maybe even a koala bear—that just attaches himself to you and no matter how hard you try to shake him, he digs in harder. Am I right?”
I didn’t answer.
“By your silence and all-around awkward posture I’m going to assume that’s a yes, you like him. Damn.” Reid splashed the water. “Another one out of my reach.”
“When was I ever in your reach?”
“Please.” Reid snorted.
I gave him a confused look.
“For real?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “Not even a tiny chance? Not even with the eyes?”
“You’re sexy.” I nodded. “I’ll throw you that bone.”
“Why do I feel insulted?” Reid tilted his head to the side. “By the way, he’s a good catch, even if he is crazy, a bit unstable, crap in bed . . .” He winked. “Okay, I’m kidding, and for the record there haven’t been any complaints in the bedroom department.”
I snorted. “How could there be, what with his—”
Reid’s eyebrows shot up. “No, please continue. Don’t let my shocked expression deter you from saying what’s really on your mind . . .” He smirked. “His . . .”
“Er . . . vibrant personality?”
“It’s big.” Reid nodded knowingly.
I felt myself flush.
“His personality, I mean.”
“Right.” My throat was parched. “It seems like it would bring you lots of years of—”
“Pleasure.” Reid chuckled.
“Yeah.” I looked down at the water. “Because it’s so—”
“Naturally eye-popping, almost like, so big that you can’t help but stare a bit?”
“Oh, look!” I pointed at the water. “A fish.”
“I can help you with him.”
I snorted. “We aren’t in fifth grade, and I don’t need help passing notes, thank you very much. It is what it is.”
“Fine.” Reid went silent.
“But, you know, if I was to ask what his favorite food was—”
“Mexican. We’re Canadian, but it doesn’t stop him from believing he was adopted and his real father is in the Mexican drug cartel.”
“Huh?”
“Because he has olive skin.” Reid rolled his eyes. “He likes chips and salsa. One time when he was ten he dreamed that a giant tortilla chip was chasing him and the only way to be rid of the chip was to learn karate and break it apart with his bare hands.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“The man’s a god when it comes to hand-to-hand combat. Thank the chip, Becca, don’t judge.”
I nodded and turned back around to see that Max and Doc had disappeared. My eyes greedily scanned the beach until they landed on Doc. She was sitting on one of the chairs, drinking a margarita and crying.
A smile curled around my lips before I had the decency to stop it.
“Wow, you heartless little hussy.” Reid chuckled. “Laughing at another girl’s tears. I may as well call you Max.”
“Huh?”
Reid pointed to Doc. “White.”
“What?”
“He really, really likes when girls wear white.” With a wink Reid walked off, leaving me in the ocean all by myself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MAX
Kissing a girl with dry mouth? Not fun. Not fun at all. It was a toss-up between wanting to offer her some of my spit just so she didn’t choke to death, and just tripping her in the sand and pretending like a turtle was at fault, you kn
ow, because turtles are so fast and they can be sneaky little bastards . . .
“Doc,” I started, then shook my head. “I mean, St—” Shit, it was either Stacy or Shannon, maybe Suzanne? With an emphasis on the ooze? Damn it!
“Lucky!” She giggled. “My name’s Lucky.”
Insert mental groan here. I mean, what’s a guy like me supposed to do with a name like that? I could spend an entire twenty-four-hour period making up jokes just using her name. But she’d take it as flirting of the sexual nature and I think we’ve already established that she’s grossly dehydrated and in need of food, not Max. Honestly, at this point I was a bit worried that if she saw me naked she’d mistake Mighty Max for one of those giant Costco hot dogs and I wasn’t a fan of getting bit, not in that way, feel me?
“Lucky.” I said her name softly as I gripped her wrists and pushed her back. “I’m trying really hard to keep things fair.”
“Fair?”
“Right.” I nodded. “With all the contestants.”
Her blank stare said it all. I’d have to spell it out, and even then, I wasn’t sure if she knew how to spell, so it was going to be an adventure. Mental note—talk slowly.
“Lucky,” I tried again as she took a step forward. I stepped back, Little G quivered in my pocket. I know, little buddy, I know. Swear he was like my robot saying, “Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!” “I’m just here to get to know you girls . . . your heart, not your . . . lips.” Round of applause for Max, please. Should I bow after that speech? Because I sure as hell wanted to get to know someone’s lips. In an up-close-and-personal way.
“Oh.” Lucky’s brow furrowed. “I get it, I mean, I shouldn’t have come on so strong. It’s just, you’re really, really hot.”
Flattery will get you everywhere. I tried desperately not to do a typical Max maneuver—you know, the type where I made the girl feel like the compliment actually made me feel like I was Superman, by flashing a megawatt smile and puffing my chest out.
“Thank you.” A simple response. Straightforward. Add bright smile. End scene. Oscar performance.