The Farmer's Perfect Match

by Marilyn Forsyth

  Evie: Welcome to Paradise, ladies.

  Meg: Nice to be here. (Enthusiastic)

  Chrissy: Yeah. Thanks. (Dismissive)

  Evie: Let’s cut to the chase. First impressions of Adam?

  (Sideways glances/self-conscious laughter)

  Meg: Hello hottie!

  Chrissy: I’d have to agree with that.

  Evie: Unanimous approval of our pearl farmer, then. And you’re both happy to stay and compete against each other?

  Chrissy: Oh yeah. My Mr Right never looked so good. (Examines nails)

  Meg: I’ll be giving it a red-hot go, don’t you worry about that.

  Evie: Would you describe yourselves as competitive?

  Meg: Bet your bootees, baby. (Laughs) When you grow up with four older brothers, there’s not much choice.

  Chrissy: I’ve always found every female to be competitive where men are concerned.

  Evie: Are you both genuinely looking for love?

  Chrissy: Absolutely. Definitely. (Arms across chest)

  Meg: (Leans forward) I think everyone’s looking for that someone special, underneath it all.

  Evie: So what made you decide to look for love with the whole country looking on? You first, Meg.

  Meg: It’s a weird situation, isn’t it? I’ve got a couple of bandaids on my heart, and I’ve discovered the online meat market isn’t for me, so I thought I’d just throw myself out there and see what happens. I’ve never been shy, not about to start now, and I’ve heard country boys are more down to earth and genuine than city guys.

  Evie: How about you, Chrissy?

  Chrissy: Well I certainly didn’t apply just to get my face on TV. I enjoy experiencing new things and I’m ready to fall in love for the first time.

  Evie: What’s one thing you believe is crucial to bring to a relationship?

  Meg: A sense of humour.

  Chrissy: I think honesty is really important.

  Evie: What are you hoping to gain from the next few weeks?

  Chrissy: I intend to win a heart.

  Meg: I’m looking to have a bloody good time. (Indiscernible comment off-camera) I can see you’re a man after my own heart, Cam. (Laughs)

  (End interview)

  CHAPTER

  7

  March 16

  Wearing a sleeveless black rash vest and bright-patterned board shorts, Adam stood at the helm of the high-powered boat, legs braced on the deck, his long back ramrod straight. Sure fingers guided the wheel effortlessly as he pointed with his free hand to three pontoons surrounded by yellow buoys in the near distance.

  ‘Almost there.’ The pride in his voice was tangible.

  Evie licked the salt from her lips, revelling in the sensation of sea spray hitting her face. Way behind them, the beach was a thin line of white, wavering in the heat.

  Her eyes caught Meg’s. She was loving this too. Chrissy? If that grimace was anything to go by, not so much. Cam, of course, was too busy overseeing the safety of his equipment to relax and enjoy the ride.

  The boat pulled up alongside the pontoon, Adam idling the engine to allow her and Cam, with his precious cameras, to climb off.

  ‘Give me a couple of minutes to set up the shot while you go back out. Then bring the boat in and help the girls out,’ Cam instructed.

  Adam’s expression was one of resigned acceptance. She knew he found the constant setting up for shots a pain in the rear.

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ He performed a mock salute as he pulled away.

  While Cam set up, Evie took the opportunity to scan the surroundings. The wooden pontoon was ten or so metres long and several metres wide. At one end stood a canvas-covered area with a high bench underneath; at the other end was a small, enclosed room. A number of ropes lay coiled on the deck.

  On both ends, and along one side of the floating platform, hung a series of wire panels. Suspended from float lines, and attached from the pontoon to the yellow buoys on all sides, were what looked like the tops of similar panels poking up out of the water. The air was thick with the smell of salt.

  Peering over the side, she looked down through several metres of clear, sun-dappled water to the sandy bottom of the Indian Ocean. She could have pinched herself. She was getting paid for this?

  ‘Ready!’ yelled Cam.

  Adam roared up alongside the pontoon, killed the engine then leaped aboard, holding onto a length of rope. He looped it over a mooring post before turning his attention to helping Meg and Chrissy from the speedboat.

  Meg had no problem but Chrissy stumbled as her feet hit the deck and she fell into Adam’s arms. He caught her to him, chuckling as he steadied her. She reached up, her blue eyes wide with what had to be feigned embarrassment, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

  The comic roll of Meg’s eyes said it all. If Chrissy thought she was fooling anyone, she had another think coming. Honestly, did the woman really believe that fluttering her eyelashes was the way to a man’s heart?

  Evie continued to watch in mounting disbelief as Adam, pinning Chrissy’s shoulders with his large hands, inspected her from head to toe. Damn him. Why wouldn’t he stop smiling?

  Disappointment tightened her throat. He’d actually been taken in by the act. Amazed at what she was witnessing, and at how much it annoyed her, she attempted to cover her irritation by making light of the farce.

  ‘Forget to bring your sea legs?’

  Chrissy smiled at her with exaggerated sweetness. ‘Must have. Luckily my hero was there to catch me.’

  To stop herself from sticking two fingers down her throat, Evie focused her attention on Cam. ‘Did you get that or will we need to redo it?’

  ‘Got it,’ he called back.

  ‘What about the sound? I haven’t put their mikes on yet.’

  ‘We can do a voice-over when we get back.’

  By the time she turned back Adam had moved away, leaving Chrissy with a cat-like smile of satisfaction on her face. She’d obviously achieved what she set out to do—capture his attention. At least for a short time.

  Uncomfortable with the idea of Adam being so easily taken in, and that her own reaction was undeniably one of disappointed anger, Evie pushed it to one side. Neil’s derisive voice, warning her to remain professional, still echoed in her head.

  After Evie miked them all up, Adam took the girls on a quick tour of his pearl farm, pointing out different pieces of equipment and explaining their use. There was no disguising the enthusiasm in his voice. He was in his element, in control and loving it. This was his kingdom and he wanted everyone to know it.

  In painstaking detail he traced the creation process by which the oysters—he referred to them as ‘shell’—produced cultured pearls. He also lectured them on the necessity of keeping the marine environment pristine.

  ‘So you’re saying that these—’ Meg held up a broad, flat grey shell, ‘—can be traumatised.’ She looked sceptical.

  ‘Yep. They have to be treated with as much care as prize livestock. Which leads me to an explanation of what you two are gonna do today.’

  Leaning over the side of the pontoon, he hauled up a panel containing six large shells. It was covered in dark green weed.

  ‘These holding cages around each of the pontoons are kind of like a day spa for oysters. The shells have heaps of room to themselves, a great view of the bay, and all the food they can eat. Ladies, today you are their spa attendants. You’re gonna clean these babies.’

  Meg squealed with delight. Chrissy’s smile remained fixed but the tightness around her eyes told a different story.

  Adam indicated several sets of gumboots lined up outside the enclosed room. ‘Grab yourselves a pair of those, some gloves and an apron, and I’ll show you what to do.’

  He pulled up several more cages, carefully stacking each one next to the high bench while the girls prepared themselves. This part of being a fly on the wall was fun. Evie could watch Adam, admiring the well-muscled back and shoulders encased in the skin-tight rashie, while pre
tending not to.

  Meg gave a nudge as she clomped past in her oversized boots; her eyes, too, were fixed on Adam. ‘Now that’s what I call a prime physical specimen.’

  Evie gave her a wink in return. No argument from me.

  ‘So, what do you think?’ Meg performed a clumsy catwalk turn, laughing uproariously at herself in the huge black boots, bright-yellow rubber gloves and shapeless apron.

  Wearing the same outfit, and looking even more comical than Meg because she was so tiny, Chrissy was far from impressed. Her sour-cream look said all that needed to be said.

  ‘Cute,’ said Adam with a teasing smile. ‘Let’s get started.’

  He removed an oyster from its protective covering and held it out for inspection. It was encrusted with a couple of barnacles and a covering of slimy growth.

  Meg removed a glove to stroke the shell. ‘It’s really rough. How do we clean it?’

  Adam handed them each a stiff-bristled brush and pointed to the buckets of water set up on the bench. ‘Good old elbow grease.’

  Meg set to work at once, brush in one hand, shell in the other, scrubbing vigorously. Adam nodded his approval before turning to Chrissy. She stood there, wide-eyed and helpless.

  ‘Can you show me again? I’m not sure I can do it.’

  The sour taste of bile rose in Evie’s throat. The woman was so blatant. Surely Adam could see it?

  ‘Of course you can,’ said Meg, before Adam could respond. ‘Watch me.’ Her tone was that of a mother brooking no resistance from a wilful child. ‘Give it a go.’

  ‘Okay,’ Chrissy simpered. She turned to show Adam what she was attempting. ‘Is this right?’

  He nodded, flashing her an encouraging grin.

  She turned back to Meg. ‘Thanks. I think I’ve got it now.’ Her lips were smiling but her blue eyes could have burned holes into the other woman.

  Evie glanced across at Cam. ‘God give me strength.’

  As the three of them set to work, with Cam recording it all, Evie moved further away to observe the scene from a distance. Adam took up a position on the other side of the bench from the women. After they’d finished cleaning each shell he hammered off any barnacles into a large plastic bucket beside him, wielding the blunt chisel with an expertise born of familiarity.

  She couldn’t hear the conversation and wasn’t really interested in listening anyway; she was too busy studying the play of muscles up and down Adam’s strong upper arms as he worked. Every now and then he threw back his head and let go that rich laugh of his. She couldn’t help smiling, even with no idea of what they were talking about. Just the sight of him so totally unguarded had the same effect on her as the ending of a feel-good movie: a delicious warmth that soaked into her insides and made her want to hold onto the feeling for as long as she could.

  The scream, erupting out of nowhere, was chilling. Evie leaped to her feet, startled into instinctive fix-it mode. Chrissy, now slumped onto a plastic stool, was rapidly fanning her ashen face.

  ‘What happened?’ Evie demanded from Cam.

  ‘She found a crab on one of the shells.’ The cameraman’s lips were pressed tightly together in his effort to prevent a laugh as he indicated the minute size of the creature between two fingers.

  Out of range of Chrissy’s eyes, Meg held up the creature on one finger, biting into her bottom lip while her curvy frame shuddered with repressed laughter. Aware now there was no dire emergency, Evie would have joined in, except that Adam’s reaction completely unnerved her.

  He rushed around to help Chrissy to her feet and pulled her protectively towards him. Immediately she flattened her body against his, burying her face into his chest and curling her arms against his back.

  ‘Sorry.’ She gave a self-deprecating giggle. ‘It gave me a fright.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ He patted her on her back, his voice gently soothing. ‘You’re okay.’

  Evie dragged in a deep breath through her nose. The uberobvious machinations of this woman were taking their toll. Unable to watch Adam being manipulated any longer, she turned her gaze away and caught Meg’s eye. With a quick conspiratorial wink, the other woman reached for an oyster panel dripping in green weed and loaded up a hand.

  ‘Oh, Chrissy?’

  The woman’s beautiful face looked up expectantly from the shelter of Adam’s muscled arms.

  ‘This’ll take your mind off it.’

  Splodge!

  The goop splattered over Chrissy’s arm, globs of it spraying up onto her face. For an instant she stared at the green slime, blinking rapidly, as though what had happened made no sense. Then she used one finger to remove a piece, inspecting it with a look of disgust.

  Meg broke the moment of tension with a well-aimed shot at Adam. His arm went up too late and he took one right in the face. The resulting laugh was deep and rich and infectious. Then, after giving Chrissy a cajoling nudge to the ribs, he reached for his own ammunition. It was on.

  ‘Don’t do it.’ Cam’s tone from behind the camera was a warning.

  ‘Do what?’ Evie grabbed a handful of weed and took aim.

  ‘At least stay out of the shot then,’ he muttered, giving up on her.

  As Evie flung off the slime, the built-up tension inside her went with it, and the kick of pleasure the action gave her had her laughing out loud. In fact they were all laughing like loons as green gunk went flying left, right and centre. To her credit Chrissy eventually joined in, but the cold blue stare directed Meg’s way left no doubt as to her irritation.

  When they finally ran out of weed, Adam called a halt. ‘I reckon that’s enough work for today, girls. Who’s for a swim?’

  The speed with which Chrissy whipped off her cumbersome outfit, right then and there on the deck, would have dazzled a professional quick-change artist. It was easy to see why she was so eager to divest herself. Her body was … sensational. No other word for it.

  According to her profile she was a photographic model. That’d be right. The tiny triangles of her bright-pink bikini put her considerable assets right out there.

  Evie lowered her eyes to check whether, by some grace of God, her cleavage had decided to make itself visible. Hmph. No such luck. Yeah, another round to you, Chrissy.

  Adam’s reaction was all too predictable. Though he pretended to be organising the snorkelling gear, those sideways glances were a dead giveaway. He couldn’t keep his eyes off Chrissy. Her throat constricted; the idea that he might just be like any other man was a massive disappointment.

  ‘Yikes.’ Apparently Cam couldn’t help himself either.

  Dammit! What was it with guys and their preoccupation with beautiful faces and bodies? Didn’t anyone go for brains? How about personality? Surely it counted for something.

  Meg chose that moment to emerge from the improvised change room. Her emerald maillot suited her to a tee, the colour contrasting beautifully with the deep red of her hair, the shape emphasising her luscious curves. Now there was a woman with beauty, brains and personality. Not as overtly sex-kittenish as Chrissy, she still had a lot going for her.

  Evie gave a complimentary nod. She didn’t know enough about both women yet to make a judgement call as to which one was supposedly Adam’s perfect mate and which one was his opposite, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt who she’d prefer to see him with.

  If he had to choose one of them. Which he did.

  Taken at face value, Chrissy and Adam were a match made in photogenic heaven. No doubt their pairing would help make Perfect Mate a ratings winner with an audience more influenced by image than truth. And on a personal level, Evie should be over the moon that the program was destined for success, but something was ringing alarm bells.

  It wasn’t just that everything the blonde did had a calculating edge to it. Sure, the flirty glances, the subtle monopolising of Adam’s attention, the devious little tricks designed to have him touch her, all grated like an itch desperately in need of a good scratch. But there was more to it than that,
something Evie couldn’t put her finger on, even though she had enough experience of scheming women to last a lifetime.

  With a sinking feeling she acknowledged they were dealing with a master manipulator here. And along with that realisation came another.

  No matter what, she was going to make it her mission to ensure Adam came to recognise Chrissy’s conniving ways. He was too nice a man for Evie to allow him to be taken advantage of by a woman like that.

  * * *

  Being the gentleman he was, Adam understood it wasn’t polite to stare. But watching Evie remove her outer layers to join them on the swim reminded him of Christmas mornings from his late childhood. He could never bear the idea of ripping paper; he loved to savour the slow unwrapping of a present until the gift emerged. The anticipation was the thrill.

  The gift in this case turned out to be the goddess-like apparition of Evie’s long slender body in a white two-piece swimsuit. With pants shaped like boxers, the outfit wasn’t as embarrassingly miniscule as Chrissy’s, or as sexily snug-fitting as Meg’s, but it showed off her golden, half-naked skin like it was custom-made to do just that.

  Looking up, she caught him watching her and actually blushed. It was an unexpected reaction from someone who gave every appearance of total self-confidence. And very revealing. How could she have so little idea of her own beauty?

  Trying to control the muscles in his face proved useless; he couldn’t seem to wipe off the smile. This was the most fun he’d had for years. Making a conscious effort to think about something other than the fact he was living every man’s dream, he handed each girl her snorkelling gear.

  ‘I’ll film from up here. Stay out of my shots,’ Cam warned Evie.

  ‘Will do,’ she said, sitting to pull on the flippers.

  ‘Can you help me with this?’ Chrissy sprang up directly in front of him, dangling a face mask from one manicured finger. Her innocent blue eyes seemed to take up her entire face.

  ‘Sure. Did you spit into it yet?’

  Her mouth twisted in disgust. ‘Why?’

  ‘Thought you said you’d snorkelled before.’

  ‘I have. But … not for a while.’

  ‘Saliva stops the glass from fogging up.’